Professor Iye
by Argonaut57
Summary: The head of the Jamaican Auror Service has been murdered. Young English Auror Dean Thomas has vanished. Somehow this all links to a mysterious island and the sinister Professor Iye. A Caribbean assignment for the worlds' newest hero: Draco Malfoy, Agent of SHIELD
1. Chapter 1

**Professor Iye**

**Chapter One**

Draco Malfoy swung the black Jaguar XJ off the access road and onto the concrete apron, the paused for a moment, the engine idling, to take good look at his new 'office'. The muggle aircraft was huge, bigger than any he had seen before, and he allowed himself a low whistle -a vuglarity he would not have indulged in unless alone.

Draco was no longer the insular Pureblood wizard who had taken every chance to express his contempt for all thing muggle. His wife, Astoria Greengrass Malfoy, was every bit as Pureblooded as he was, but the Greengrass family had long had a different attitude to muggles. A Greengrass, in a moment of enthusiasm, had volunteered in what soon became known as the Great War. In the trenches, he had come to know and understand muggles, to respect the things in them he also respected in wizards. Courage, compassion, a sense of duty, love of family, friendship, and much else. After the War, he had kept in touch with those muggle friends who had survived – pitifully few – and had seen them go through the Influenza pandemic of 1918, the Great Depression, the Second World War, the massive social changes of the 1950s and '60s, and more recently the technological revolution of the '80s and '90s.

"We wizards have it too easy, sometimes." The old man had told Draco on the day Astoria introduced him to her family. "We just have to wave a wand, and our troubles vanish. Muggles have to work at it, young Draco! They have to get tired and dirty just to get what they need, never mind what they want or deserve!"

Through Astorias' influence – and she was a woman who stood no nonsense – Draco had learned much more about muggles. He had plumbed the mysteries of Michelin star cuisine, fine wine, real ale, classical music, muggle art (he particularly admired LS Lowry) and DisneyWorld, Florida (a place where muggles came close enough to magic to totally enchant little Scorpius). So he had seen planes up close before. But never a brute like this! Or one with a smaller plane perched on top!

But enough reflection. Draco put the car into drive and continued. He liked the big Jag – his 'company car'. Sensibly, he and Astoria had agreed on a seven-seater Nissan Note as their family vehicle. Sufficent capacity for parents, child, assorted in-laws and luggage, plus a popular and thus unnoticed model. When SHIELD had told him he had a choice of field vehicle, however, he had let himself go a bit! The chunky SUVs were insufficiently elegant for his taste, the Aston Martin too much the cliché, and Draco doubted his ability to fold his six-foot, two-inch frame comfortably into the ludicrously small cockpit of a Ferrari or MG. So the XJ it was, and this model had all the SHIELD extras, which Draco had customised with a little judicious magic.

He brought the car up to the loading ramp, swung it around and reversed up, neatly into the space left for it between the two hulking SHIELD SUVs. He felt the locks engage, securing the wheels, as he switched off the engine and got out.

The group gathered near the inner door watched him as he approached them. A tall, slender man in a grey suit with a Mandarin-style jacket. Blond hair, slightly receding at the front, ponytail at the back. A thin face, handsome in a classic kind of way, grey eyes that, at this moment, showed not a hint of warmth. He moved with a long, rangy stride, indicative of more than ordinary fitness.

Draco halted at the top of the steps as a tall, black man stepped forward.

"Permission to come aboard, sir?" He hazarded.

The man grinned. "That's Navy protocol, Agent Malfoy. Besides, you don't call me 'sir', I work for a living!"

He put out a large hand, and the men exchanged a firm, measuring grip.

"Agent James Rhodes – call me Rhodey. I'm your XO, Chief Pilot and Heavy Assault specialist."

Draco nodded. "Formerly Lt-Col Rhodes, USAF?" He clarified. "Also known, I believe, as War Machine? I take it you have your working clothes to hand?"

Rhodes jerked his head toward a large, cyclindrical unit at the rear of the cargo bay. "Charged up and ready to go. Latest model, equipped with six different modular loadouts. Good to meet you, Agent Malfoy!

"These are your other team members. Agent Bruce Wayne," a tall, dark-haired man with the build of a dancer and intense blue eyes, "Tech Support, Secondary Pilot and Weapons Specialist. If we don't have it, Bruce can build it.

"Agent Clark Kent," also dark, slightly below the middle height, but with remarkable breadth of shoulder, thick muscular arms and legs like tree-trunks, he was olive-skinned and wore dark, wraparound sunglasses, "specialist in infiltration, close combat and demolitions.

"Finally, our tame nerd, Agent Doug Ramsay," medium height, thin, blond, but with a determined face, his brown eyes studied Draco with caution, but no apprehension, "Doug is a hacker among hackers – if it's on a computer somewhere, he can get at it!

"The last two members, you probably know – at least by reputation – better than we do, so I'll let them introduce themselves."

They were both women, Draco noted, which was a relief. He had learned to value a womans' perspective on most things, and the idea of an all-male environment was not, in his view, a civilised one.

The first to step forward was tall, slender, elegantly dressed and white-blonde. She was very, very beautiful, and as she approached, Draco was aware of a more than natural allure that seemed to exude from her.

"Gabrielle Delacourt, as I live and breathe!" Draco said, bowing over her extended hand. "I know I asked for some magical team members, but this I did not expect!"

She gave a typically Gallic shrug. "One must blame my countrymen, M Malfoy. I 'ad wished to follow the example of 'Arry Pottair and become an Auror for many years. But the Bureau des Sorcieres does not approve of my Veela blood. The European Union 'as not thus far extended its tentacles into our world, so zat to work in Britain or Germany would require much time wasted in obtaining citizenship."

Draco nodded. "They are rather behind the times in the Rue de Lotte." He acknowledged. "I'm so glad – no offence – that my family decided to come over with Duke William!"

Gabrielle chuckled, then shrugged again. "_Enfin,_ I was forced to consider following my brother-in-law into Curse-breaking. But then I was approached by UNIT, who knew of my expertise in combat magic and other Auror skills. I was accepted and trained by them, only to find myself seconded to SHIELD and assigned to your team."

"Well, I'm delighted to have you." Draco told her. "We will talk more later, I am sure."

He turned to the other witch. The was a rather short, curvaceous woman with red hair and a sweet, sad face.

"Professor Rosenberg?" He said. "I thought you were putting down roots at Hogwarts? Or is the DADA post still cursed?"

Willow Rosenberg shook his hand and smiled. "Not as far as I know, Agent Malfoy. That said, everybody knows that the job is just marking time until Harry Potter quits the Aurors and takes it on!

"But as for me, I spent too many years in the field with Buffy to settle into teaching for long. So when SHIELD offered to get this work done for me," she touched the now-flawless skin of her face where a Dalek had once left a terrible scar, "and to replace that clumsy magical arm with a new-generation bionic one, I jumped at it!"

"Reasonable, given your background." Draco allowed. "But I would have thought you'd have wanted to help train up the new Slayer?"

"No need." She shook her head. "The new Slayer lives in Vie de Marlie, you know. Dante Sparda and the Brotherhood of the Sword have taken over where the Watcher Council left off. They'll train her a lot better than I could. So, here I am!"

"Our gain." Draco acknowledged, then addressed the group as a whole. "I dare say over the next few months, we'll all get to know each other pretty well. For now, however, we have matters to attend to. A situation has arisen. I suggest we all adjourn to the Briefing Room and begin."

The Briefing Room was equipped with what muggles referred to as 'all mod cons', including a large plasma screen, a table which was also an LCD unit capable of being used as a display or workstation. All rather beyond Dracos' current grasp, but he was sure he'd get used to it – eventually.

"I had hoped," he began without preamble, "to have more time to orient you all on our broader remit, but it seems a summary must suffice.

"Last year – 2014 – as a result of a joint UNIT, SHIELD and White Council operation against the so-called Scholomance, certain information came to light. Naturally, this was not made public. However, it has now become quite general knowledge among the military, inteligence and law enforcement communities that organisations such as HYDRA and SPECTRE are now employing wizards and _wesen_ in their nefarious schemes. Ostensibly, this unit was put together to pursue such criminally-inclined wizards and bring them to justice -one way or another."

"If there are _wesen_ involved, should we not 'ave a Grimm on the team?" Asked Gabrielle. There was a touch of nervousness in her tone. Veelas were the only purely-magical _wesen_ known to exist, and their status as Magical Creatures had thus far kept them safe from Grimms, who could not be wizards. The downside was that the powers and sinister nature of Grimms had been highly exaggerated among them.

"Grimms are hard to come by." Draco pointed out. "Only two are known to be active – Detective Nicholas Burkhardt and his mother – neither of whom could be removed from their current situations without serious repercussions. That said, as you know, _wesen _are legally defined as muggles and as such fall outside our remit.

"However, our real mission is much more complex and dangerous. You will find full confirmation in your briefing packs, but for now, let this suffice. The intelligence we received has led certain people to believe that the wizard world has been infiltrated by HYDRA. We have been assigned to ascertain the accuracy of this intelligence, and if accurate, the degree to which this infiltration extends. We are to find evidence and where possible take direct action to root out HYDRA agents and cells in the magical community.

"Apart from the people in this room, this information is known to very few people. Suffice to say that, if necessary, we will have full support and cover from SHIELD, UNIT, the White Council and the Brotherhood of the Sword. The resources of Stark International are also at our disposal if required.

"As I said, I had hoped you would have more time to absorb this, but it appears events march with rather more alacrity than we had expected. We have a more immediate mission to undertake.

"Agent Rhodes?"

Rhodey activated the big plasma screen. The image it showed was of a rather fat, very cheerful-looking black wizard, wearing extremely colourful robes and grinning happily out of what had clearly been a wizard photograph – the digitisation of such photos produced a marked 3-D effect that people new to the experience found disconcerting.

"This is – or was – Josiah Marcus Aurelius Manahal." Rhodey announced. "Until yesterday, he was Head of the Auror Department at the Jamaican Ministry of Magic. Then this morning his secretary, Miss Annabelle Trueblood, came into the office at her usual time – earlier than her boss – and found his office door open. This was unusual, because Manahal was very careful about closing and locking his office at night – he kept confidential documents in there.

"Miss Trueblood, suspecting a break-in, called for back-up and waited until two security wizards arrived before going through the door. They found Mr Manahal in his office chair, like this!"

The next picture caused a stir, even the field-experienced and hardened Kent winced. Manahal was not sitting in his chair as much as he was pinned to it by a long shaft that went through the centre of his chest. As Rhodey rotated the view, they saw that the shaft belonged to some kind of spear whose viciously barbed point had ripped through the victim and the thick wood of the chair-back to protrude at least a foot out behind.

"That's gotta smart!" Willow murmured.

"Not a spear." Wayne remarked. "That's a harpoon. Nineteenth century, by the design, but unusual configuration."

"Somebody is strong!" Kent rumbled in his unusually deep tones. "He was a big guy and you don't shove a harpoon clean through a body and a chair like that without a lot of power! Either that, or it came from a gun."

"Zat is where there is a problem." Gabrielle told them. "Like all such buildings, ze Ministry in Kingston is 'eavily protected by Charms and Spells. It is not possible to cast a curse or hex in such buildings wizout setting off many alarms. Also, for some years now, there 'ave been spells in place that prevent the firing of many kinds of muggle weapon."

"Well, there's another problem right there!" Wayne commented. "For one thing, there are so many kinds of muggle weapon. For another, somebody develops a new one every time you turn around! We're a warlike bunch, Agent Delacourt, we love finding new ways to delete each other!"

"This is disturbing." Draco said grimly. "It takes a number of very clear and transparent procedures to permit a muggle into any official wizard building during business hours. Outside those hours, it cannot be done unless a very powerful wizard – one capable of evading complex protective and detection spells – smuggles them in.

"It must also be noted that Mr Manahal was known for his skills as an Auror. He was an expert in both defensive and offensive magic. Admittedly, he had not been in the field for some years, but there is no reason to suppose him incapable of defending himself."

"Which implies," Ramsays' voice was quiet, but firm and steady, "that he knew, or at least recognised, his killer. Enough to be taken by surprise, anyway.

"Was anything taken from the office?"

"Some private files." Draco confirmed. "Concerning, as far as Miss Trueblood could tell us, an investigation Mr Manahal was directing personally. Which leads on to the next problem. Agent Rhodes, continue, please."

Another photo came up on the plasma. A tall, wiry young black man in casual muggle clothing.

"Dean Thomas, an Auror working for the British Ministry of Magic. Earlier this year, he was part of an officer exchange with the Jamaican Ministry. The exchange scheme is a regular one, begun in the 1980's, one of several which the Ministry sponsors with a number of countries. The idea being for the participants to experience the methods and style of different forces. Similar exchanges take place in muggle police and military forces.

"Mr Thomas failed to report for work this morning, and has not been seen or heard from since. According to his diary, he was meeting the previous afternoon with this man."

The man was white, but deeply tanned, despite his fair hair. He had a hard face, etched with bitter lines, and a rugged-looking, muscular body clothed in khaki shirt and shorts.

"Piet van Roek, expatriate South African wizard. Graduated from the Transvaal College of Magic in 1975. Followed his father into farming, and into conservative Afrikaaner politics. The release of Nelson Mandela and the abolition of white rule destroyed his parents. They sold up everything and moved to the US, Alabama in fact. Presumably they wanted somewhere where they could still look down on black people.

"It didn't work out so well, because a couple years later they were arrested by the FBS for giving magical assistance to a white supremacist group down there.

"Piet came out of it squeaky clean. He worked for Gringotts and was out of the country a lot. Claimed he didn't know what his folks were into, and the FBS couldn't prove otherwise. The report says they didn't have enough probable cause to get a warrant to Soulgaze. Anybody tell me what that means?"

"The Soulgaze," Willow told him, "is a magical technique that allows the user to know everything about a person just by looking into their eyes. It's a difficult one to master, and it's dangerous to use on another wizard because of potential magical feedback.

"I'm pretty good at it, but I wouldn't want to use it unless I really had to!"

"OK." Rhodey nodded. "Well, a couple years back, Piet resigned from Gringotts. About the same time, their accounts turned up short around four million Galleons."

"Good grief!" Draco commented. "That's a Hell of a lot of Galleons. I take it Mr van Roek was suspected?"

"Suspected and investigated." Rhodey confirmed. "They knew there was something hinky, but again, not enough to go for any kind of warrant or arrest. Where the Hell the money went, nobody knows."

"Wizard currency ees still made of the pure metal." Gabrielle pointed out. "Eet would be simple for a clever wizard with the right contacts to recast the coins as bullion, or work zem into jewellery and sell zem on ze muggle market. Muggles would pay per'aps seventy per cent of the Galleon value for ze metal alone, more for well-made jewellery. With magic eet is easy to make such baubles."

"Better deal than standard laundering." Ramsay noted.

"Makes sense, kinda." Rhodey allowed. "Anyway, Piet has been globe-trotting since. Business consultant, he calls himself. Basically, a troubleshooter. You got problems with your business, he makes them go away, for a fee. Scuttlebutt is, his methods ain't always ethical but his clients are ready to look the other way, as long as the profits start flowing.

"Whether he met with Auror Thomas, we don't know. We do know he checked out of his hotel the night Manahal was murdered and dropped right off the grid."

Draco considered. "I would imagine, given the mindset of law-enforcement the world over," he pondered, "that the Jamaican Aurors suspect an inside job and are implicating Mr Thomas. Now, I went to school with Dean Thomas. He was a Gryffindor, and as such possessed, from the Slytherin viewpoint, a depressingly high degree of integrity and honesty. I do not see him as a corrupt official, much less a murderer. The worst I could say of the man is that he shares the same unfortunate taste in women as Harry Potter!"

"By which M Malfoy means," Gabriell clarified, "that Dean dated Ginevra Weasley at school. Ginny, of course, earned my undying enmity by marrying 'Arry Pottair before I 'ad my chance at 'im! Rest assured, I will kill 'er in due course!"

The last remark was clearly anything but serious, and even Draco permitted himself a slight smile, adding drily. "I believe there is a substantial queue of witches you will need to join!"

"OK," Rhodey said, "we'll add that to the future mission schedule, Gabrielle. In the meantime, the Jamaican Aurors have agreed to seal all the relevant locations for us. Our orders are cut and the flight plan registered. We can leave for Kingston as soon as you give the word, Agent Malfoy."

"Make it so." Draco said, and his first mission was underway.

An hour into the flight, Draco made his way to the flight deck and slid into the co-pilots' seat.

"Hey, Draco." Rhodey greeted him from the pilot position.

"Am I disturbing you?" Draco asked. "Only I wanted a private word, if I may."

Rhodey grinned. "Heck, Boss, this baby practically flies herself. I'm only here in case something goes wrong. Shoot."

"Thank you." Draco said, then took a breath. "Agent Rhodes, you are my Executive Officer, to all intents and purposes, my second in command. You are also the onlyother member who knows the full extent and source of our remit, thus far. Is that a fair summation?"

"About covers it." Rhodey agreed. "And call me Rhodey, huh?"

Draco sighed. "There, you have inadvertently put your finger on the nub of the issue, Agent Rhodes.

"I do not know how aware you are of my background?"

"Your folks were Death-Eaters." Rhodey told him. "They made you take that Dark Mark thing when you were sixteen or so. But Voldemort set you a suicide mission -to kill your Headmaster – that you didn't manage to complete. No surprise there, I don't know many teenagers who can do cold-blooded murder unless they're psychos or on drugs. You don't strike me as crazy, and you ain't no druggie, or you wouldn't be here.

"But your Dark Lord, he treated you and your folks like shit, then expected them to stay loyal. In the end, your Mom lied to Voldemort to save Harry Potter's life, and yours. That got you all a pardon. You joined the Ministry in the Foreign Office after that, and you did OK. You got married, had a kid, respectable citizen.

"But a couple years after the war, Harry Potter contacted you on the QT and started to train you up. He figured that one day he might need a covert operative, and that nobody would ever think you might be working with him.

"I get that right?"

"Factually correct, certainly." Draco agreed. "But not exactly what I meant.

"The Malfoys are not only a Pureblood family, but also an aristocratic one, Agent Rhodes. Armand Malfoy was a person of consequence in the retinue of William the Conqueror, and was given substantial estates as a reward for his services and loyalty. Those estates, despite a certain profligacy among some of my ancestors, still provide the bulk of the family income. I am in fact the first Malfoy in the direct line to undertake remunerative employment of any kind, and I do so more out of a sense of societal obligation than any need of funds.

"But my upbringing was an old-fashioned one, and it has left me sadly lacking in what are termed 'soft skills'. I do not handle people well. At least, not in the manner of modern expectations. I am unlikely, for instance, ever to be comfortable addressing you by your given name, or nickname. I might, in due course, address you simply as 'Rhodes', without title or honorific, but that is the closest I will probably come to informality. The same applies to the other members of the team.

"By the same token, I am very uncomfortable being addressed by my given name by anyone who is not family. Harry Potter is aware of this, and takes every opportunity to call me Draco. It seems his sister-in-law has told him that this will be beneficial in relieving what she so elegantly refers to as my 'emotional constipation'.

"However, I am, for my sins, in charge of this particular situation and group. I would prefer to, and indeed will insist on, running matters with a degree of formality I consider consistent with proper discipline. But I am also aware that a more 'human' touch is needed. You are clearly what is termed a 'people person', Agent Rhodes, and I will therefore be relying on you to supply the emotional support to the team which I cannot. Will this be possible for you?"

"Possible? Sure." Rhodey allowed. "Advisable? Maybe not so much. Most of this team are Americans, Agent Malfoy. The whole American democratic experiment is about equality, and we don't take so well to a leader who ain't prepared to be one of the guys when he's not on duty. Could lead to trust issues."

"Entirely understandable." Daron replied. "And I am aware of my shortcomings in that area. Which is why I am hoping that you will convey to our colleagues an understanding of my psychology. I am a British aristocrat, Agent Rhodes. We are never 'on duty' or 'off duty', we _are_ duty. _Noblesse oblige_ -with high birth comes high obligation -is at the core of our being. I will never fail to do my utmost – even to giving my life – for a member of this team, because that is my duty, it is who I am. My father forgot that when he became a Death-Eater, and only remembered it when he came face-to-face with the Daleks and redeemed himself in death. In his memory, I will never forget it.

"But the crux of the matter is less lofty, and I also hope you will explain to them that I am lacking in the social and people skills they expect, and that if I am remote, it is not through dislike, but merely through a wish not to occasion any awkwardness."

"I'll try." Rhodey promised. "but you have to know some of the team – especially the ladies -are gonna take that as a challenge. They're gonna want to draw you out and draw you in."

"And their attempts will succeed or fail on their merits." Draco replied. "Of more immediate concern, I need to know of any emotional or romantic entanglements which might affect the teams' cohesion and efficiency. I am aware that both you and I are happily married – though some cynics would consider that phrase oxymoronic. I know that Mlle Delacourt, though aware of the effect her Veela nature has on the opposite sex, is uncommitted at this time, possibly for that very reason. Miss Rosenberg openly prefers the company of other ladies -to put it delicately – and is also currently not in a relationship.

"What, if anything, do you know of the others?"

Rhodey shrugged. "Clark – Agent Kent – has a thing going with a lady journalist. She specialises in wildlife and environmental stories, works for some magazine or other. They both travel a lot, only get together a few times a year, but it seems to suit them both.

"Wayne's seeing one of SHIELDs' covert ops agents. Selina Kyle was one really succesful burglar, safecracker and thief, but in a Robin Hood kinda way. She stole from drug barons and gave the loot to rehab charities -that kinda thing. Made a lot of serious enemies, so when SHIELD offered her somewhere to go, she jumped at it. She and Bruce clicked at first sight, and it's a long-term thing, far as I can see.

"Doug? Doug's a nerd to the core. Doesn't know what a womans' for, I reckon. I've seen him drive chicks crazy 'cause he treats them just like he treats everyone else. Good kid, but if it don't have a couple hundred terabytes of RAM and a superfast processor, it don't turn him on!"

"What," Draco asked in genuine bafflement, "is a terabyte?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Professor Iye**

**Chapter Two**

Willow Rosenberg came into the workshop/lab to see Agent Wayne fiddling about with one of those holographic desktops. As a witch who had spent most of her life among muggles, and who had been characterised as a nerd herself, she had always been amused at the unexpected similarities between the two worlds. There were wizards in the Department of Mysteries who conceptualised new spells, potions and magical artefacts in just this way, creating a three-dimensional image and manipulating it until it looked or felt right. Of course, they did it with wands – in the UK anyway – while Wayne was using his hands. Also, Wayne worked to different principles – muggle technology was not about 'feel' or instinct. Most of the time anyway.

Wayne was clearly absorbed in his work, so Willow took a moment to size him up. They had only met the previous day at their orientation session, and she had not had time to form impressions of her new team-mates. The man looked more like a fighter than a lab-jockey or a grease-monkey, she decided. His tall frame was not bulky, but rather wiry and agile-looking. When she had shaken hands with him yesterday, she had noted steel-wire muscles and the callouses associated with martial arts training. His manner was full of easy charm, and his taste in clothing and accessories -the Rolex watch, for instance -spoke to a privileged but not super-wealthy background. But his eyes gave him away. They were fierce, intense and piercing. They told her of a man unprepared to compromise his values and a white-steel core beneath the easy-going surface.

Well, it was kinda rude to study a guy when he didn't know you were there, so Willow cleared her throat.

"Wondered when you'd get around to announcing yourself." Bruce looked up at her with a grin. "I got good ears, Willow, and if you don't want to be recognised, you should change your perfume. That a wizard brand?"

She blinked, then chuckled. " It's called 'Wild Dryad'," she told him, "though I don't know why. Dryads -even the orchard ones -tend to smell of moss and wet leaves. You wanted to see me, Bruce?"

"Yeah." He said. "Just a quick check, really. Our medic is joining us in Kingston -he was at Cheyenne Mountain and needed to finish up there, first. But I thought I'd use the flight time to run a quick diagnostic on your arm. Just the electronics, the doc will see to the interfaces, but I'd guess it's easier for you not to have two guys prodding you around at the same time."

"Good thought." Willow allowed. "Where do you want me?"

Bruce indicated a chair close to a computer console and Willow went over. As she did so, she began to take off her sweater.

"Hey!" Bruce told her. "No need for that. Just roll up your sleeve. I only need to access the diagnostic port."

"Oh!" She said, complying. "Dr Bashir always had me take off my sweater or blouse when he did this."

"He would!" Bruce replied, rolling his eyes. "Dave Bashir likes to take in the view when he's working on a lady patient!"

"Jeez!" She shook her head. "Some guys, huh? Good job Gabrielle doesn't have any bionics!"

"She'd be having daily diagnostics, if I know Dave!" Bruce agreed. "Specially since – far as I can tell – she doesn't wear a bra! Turn the chair so your bionic arm's nearest the console. Thanks. Hold still a minute?"

There was a tiny mole in the crook of Willows' elbow, which Bruce gently pressed in a one-two, one-two-three rhythm. A small area of skin, about where a normal doctor would look for the vein, hinged up, revealing a USB port. Bruce plugged a cord into it and started the diagnostic software running.

"Gonna take maybe twenty minutes." He told Willow. "You want a coffee or something? This plane's got everything!"

"Skinny caramel latte?" Willow asked. "I haven't had a chance to check the catering out yet."

"Comin' right up!" He assured her, and went off to a corner of the lab equipped with a sophisticated refreshment centre. As he busied himself with the drinks, Willow took another look around. When he returned, she sipped her latte, which was excellent, and asked: "So what is it with the bats?"

Bruce glanced around to a corner of the lab which contained several illustrations of bat anatomy, a number of books on chiroptera, a stuffed fruit bat and the skeleton of a smaller species in a glassiness block.

"Guess I got 'em in the belfry!" He allowed wryly. "When I was a kid, we had a summer place in the Hampton, and there was this big old hollow tree that was full of them. When I was really young, I used to like running in there to make 'em all come flying out, like a live storm-cloud. When I got older, I started to study them more. I was fascinated with the idea of a flying mammal. Humans and bats are the only animals that actually fly, you know? The others, like flying squirrels, just glide. Guess that's why I became a pilot as well as all the other stuff. Also, the chiroptera are one of the most successful orders of animals in the world -like humans again.

"I spent one whole summer getting closer and closer until they got used to me. I could go right inside the tree -you could've housed a family inside of it – and some of them would even come and settle in my hand so I could look at them. It got to be a hobby of mine.

"You know there are like twelve hundred species of bat, that we know about? They go from the Kittis' hog-nose, that has a five-inch wingspan and weighs maybe an ounce, to the giant golden-crowned flying fox that weighs around four pounds and runs to a nearly six-foot wingspan. The little guys eat mostly bugs, the big ones eat fruit, there's one kind catches fish and the Vampires drink blood. The Vampires I guess you know about, right?"

Willow shook her head with a laugh. "It's kinda funny, that. Only a few, very old and powerful, Black Court Vampires can shapeshift. Some of them do turn into bats, but not Vampire bats -they're too small!

"So, what's your story, Bruce? You seem to know how I got here, but what about you?"

He shrugged. "I come from New York. Dad's a neurosurgeon, Mom's a plastic surgeon. Both still working, both doing well. So we had a big house in a nice suburb, Dad had a silver-grey Merc, Mom had a station wagon, and I got a 'vette when I was old enough, and we had a summer place, like I said. Private school, of course. But I was more into machines, and how things worked, than people. Not squeamish, just not interested. Then they go tell me I'm a genius, which was, like, not so good at the time."

Willow nodded. "Being clever at High School isn't so good, right?"

Wayne rolled his eyes in agreement. "Even at a private school. Oh, they pushed us academically, but it was still all about knowing the right people, going to the right parties and having the right clothes and stuff. Didn't help that my folks brought me up to have taste, rather than fashion-sense!

"I didn't like football or basketball, so I signed up for Karate and Aikido instead. For some reason, the bullying kinda eased off after that. The rest is pretty much the usual. Harvard first, then MIT, then CalTech. I got doctorates in electronic engineering, biomechanics and chemistry. I also studied ballistics, material tech and a bunch of other stuff, as well as learning to fly – I'm rated for supersonic -and shoot.

"While I was at Caltech, I got a summer internship at Stark West Coast, and that led to an R&amp;D job there. Then they moved me to Special Projects when Stark took over Gamma Base from the military. I was doing weapons development when some HYDRA goons busted into the base, so I decided to use some of my prototypes on them. That got the attention of Director Rogers, and here I am!

"You I know about, Willow. I'm a speed reader and I went through all your files last night. You worked with the Slayer, right? It was you who cast the spell that wakened all the Slayers. After the Sunnydale incident, you went off with Buffy to collect all the active Slayers, but they all got killed in 2008. You lost an arm and got your face scarred."

He reached out gently and turned her face this way and that. "Terrific work." He told her. "You'd never know. How come your wizard friends never fixed you up?"

She shrugged. "Scars don't bother wizards." She told him. "In fact, they take a pride in them. Harry Potter wouldn't be Harry Potter without the scar Voldemort put on him, and his brother-in-law, Bill Weasley, makes no bones about the scars he got from a werewolf bite. There are no wizard plastic surgeons, and even if there were, their potions and spells can't touch the damage a Dalek ray does. Same goes for conventional muggle medicine. This is Tony Stark's artificial skin, same as what's on my arm and all over Clark – so he tells me."

The computer suddenly beeped and Bruce jumped, then stared at the screen. "Huh?" He d

said. "That's not standard! Wood? Something else organic?"

Willow laughed. "Sorry!" She said. "Should've told you." She stroked her bionic forearm, murmuring something under her breath. A section of skin glowed and what looked to Bruce like a wooden stick rose up out of it. Willow held it up for him to inspect.

"My wand." She told him. "Ollivander, eight inches, springy, elm and dragon heartstring. I'm always forgetting or losing things, so I had a guy called Arthur Weasley – who specialises in making magic work with muggle tech – make this storage space for it. That way, I always have it handy."

"Cool!" Bruce approved. "But I heard that American magical types don't use wands?"

"Not many of us do." Willow allowed. "But I've been working in the UK for a while now. It's not considered good practice there not to use a wand, especially if you're using magic professionally, and I was a teacher, so I kinda had to have one."

"Bet it cramped your style!" Bruce commented.

Willow shrugged, replacing her wand in its cache. "It's a trade-off." She told him. "I lost a little bit of power, sure, but I gained real precision. You cast wandless, things can get fuzzy round the edges, and you get side-effects -I once blanked mine and all my friends' memories by accident. With a wand, you might need to concentrate harder, but there's not much spillover or collateral damage."

They chatted until the diagnostic was complete. Bruce examined the screen, and nodded. "First glance, everythings' A-1." He told her. "I'll do a report for the medic and a full work-up in case I missed anything. You want a copy?"

Willow shook her head. "Wouldn't understand three words in ten!" She admitted. "I used to be a nerd, but not that much any more. Thanks for the coffee and the talk, Bruce, and for not making a pass at me!"

"What would be the point?" Bruce asked. "You like women, right?"

"I do." She acknowledged. "But that doesn't stop guys liking me, and you got a couple tells there, Bruce!"

He laughed, open, honest, unembarrassed laughter. "Don't tell Selina!" He begged. "She's kinda possessive, and she's a tough lady!"

At that point, Dracos' voice came over the PA. "Ladies and gentlemen, we are now on final approach to Kingston. Agents Delacourt and Wayne will accompany me to the Ministry building. Agent Rosenberg and Agent Kent will meet with Dr Howser at the Kingston Magical Hospital. Thank you."

Draco parked his car in the visitors' space outside the unassuming office building that served as the Jamaican Ministry of Magic.

"Nice car, Boss." Wayne noted. "Been thinking of getting a Jaguar myself."

He pronounced it 'jag-_wahr_', which made Draco wince inwardly, though he knew that accents at least couldn't be cured. Other things could be nipped in the bud, however.

"Agent Wayne," he said mildly, "I would take it as a personal favour if you and the rest of our colleagues would refrain from addressing me as 'Boss'. It always gives me the feeling that I should be several stones overweight, smoking an excessively large cigar and wearing a double-breasted suit and a fedora hat!"

Both Wayne and Gabrielle laughed at this. "Never thought of that!" Wayne admitted. "Guess you have to be a Brit to think about the word that way. What should we call you, anyway? Rhodey says you don't like us using your first name."

"Agent Malfoy, or Mr Malfoy are both adequate." Draco told him. "You may call me 'sir' if you feel it absolutely necessary to assign me a higher rank, but since we are all professionals of equal standing, I would rather you didn't."

"Many of ze Aurors in London address 'Arry as 'Gaffer'..." Gabrielle let the suggestion hang. Draco, as politely as possible, gave her to understand that should anyone address him in that fashion, it would be cause for their instant and painful demise. Wayne laughed again, but Gabrielle, who knew the Malfoy reputation, was not entirely sure that Draco had not meant every word. Not everyone grasps the finer nuances of English humour.

The foyer of the building seemed entirely unremarkable. A few young men and women -the men in suits, the women in brightly-coloured dresses -were engaged in conversation, scattered in small groups around the space. Some of the chat was genuine, Bruce noted, but a significant minority had certain discrepancies in stance and a sense of heightened awareness, that gave them away. _Security_, he thought, _on the lookout for bad guys and wandering muggles._

Draco approached the desk. "Good afternoon." He said to the smartly turned out female receptionist. "I'm here to see Miss Trueblood."

"Name, sir?" She asked with a bright, practised smile.

"Malfoy." He replied. "Draco Malfoy."

"Oh, yes!" She replied, the smile now genuine and relieved. "The specialist, right? You to go straight on up, Third Floor. Miss Trueblood, she waitin' for you."

Miss Trueblood was a tall, elegant, elderly woman in traditional Caribbean style witch robes, flowing and brightly-patterned. She had clearly been crying, but welcomed Draco and his people as professionally as she could.

"Thank you, Miss Trueblood." Draco spoke quietly and courteously. "Agent Delacourt will take your statement. Agent Wayne and I will examine the scene."

He nodded to Gabrielle, who sat the obviously distressed woman down and began to speak in a soothing tone.

"I will be using a Minute Quill," she said, "which will take down your statement word for word. When we 'ave finished, you may read and sign it, then I suggest you go 'ome.

"_Bien_. You 'ad been working for M Manahal for long?"

"Since he got promotion." Miss Trueblood told her. "Mebbe fifteen year. But we know each other longer. We start here same day, both just seventeen."

"You were in 'is confidence?" Gabrielle asked.

MissTrueblood shook her head. "I keep his diary and send his letters. Arrange meetings. But he always use a quill like yours to take notes. He was always good to me, polite, respectful, treat me like a lady, but he never talk about cases with me."

"So you would not necessarily know if 'e was working on a special or important case?"

Miss Trueblood smiled sadly. "You never been a secretary, girl!" She pointed out. "I never know details, but I always know if something important happening. If the meeting about ordinary stuff, Mr Manahal leave the door open. If it important, he close it. Last month or so, he have a lot of closed-door meetings with that young English Auror, Mr Thomas."

"And was there any tension between zem?" Gabrielle asked.

Miss Trueblood shook her head. "No, Miss. But I tell you this. If Mr Manahal talking to the Thomas boy alone, and not one of our senior Aurors, it have to be about something special. That Mr Thomas, he trained by Harry Potter, you know. You heard of Harry Potter? Well, if you want a hard or nasty job done, and you can't get Harry Potter, you get somebody he trained!"

"So, what 'appened this morning?" Gabrielle cut to the chase.

Miss Trueblood teared up for a moment, but took a breath and spoke clearly. "I come in my usual time, around seven forty-five. Mr Manahal don't start till half-past eight, so I got time to check his diary and look at any owls that come in overnight. I see the office door open, and that make me worry.

"Mr Manahal, he always shut and lock that door when he go out. We left same time last night, and I see him lock up. I think maybe somebody broke in, so I call security. Ephraim and one of his men come up, and we go in and find poor Josiah..."

Gabrielle let her calm herself, then went on gently. "What did you do next?"

Miss Trueblood dried her eyes and said. "We call Mr St Clare, and he call for the people from the hospital and check the office. He say there are files missing, but he don't know what they are. He also say he got orders for what to do if something like this happen, and he go make a call on his mirror. I guess it to call you people.

"I tell him I got to go tell poor Jennifer - Josiahs' wife – and he tell me to see her looked after and come straight back here so you can talk to me. I leave Jennifer with her daughter and come straight back.

"We done now?"

Gabrielle nodded. "If you wish to look through this before you sign it? Then I will arrange for someone to see you 'ome, or wherever you wish to go. If we need anything else, we will contact you."

They had moved the body, of course, which is why Draco had sent Willow to the hospital. She was best equipped to look at the body itself. He introduced himself and Agent Wayne to the two wizards who waited in the office, and got their names in return.

William St Clare looked to be in his mid-thirties, an up-and-coming young Auror being fast-tracked through the system, muggle-style. Obviously muggle-born, as he seemed perfectly at ease in the dark business suit he wore. His manner was crisp and courteous, a professional dealing with professionals.

Ephraim Kodogo, on the other hand, was stocky, grizzled and clad in plain but sturdy working robes. He was polite in gruff kind of way, but kept on stealing suspicious sidelong glances at the obviously muggle Agent Wayne. _Old school, out of his depth and unhappy about it._ Draco concluded.

The harpoon, Draco saw, was still through the chair.

"We knew to disturb as little as possible." St Clare informed him. "So Ephraim here charmed the spear intangible and I lifted Josiah off it. We sent the body to the hospital for the Healers to look at. They also have a muggle specialist who comes in on cases like this, where a muggle weapon has been used."

"I see. My people will be at the hospital by now." Draco said. "I understand some files are missing?"

St Clare nodded. "We were lucky. Whoever did this knew exactly what they were looking for. There's no evidence of a search. But they got careless, and left the file-drawer open by an inch or two. Unfortunately, I can't tell you what was in them. Josiah was careful to compartmentalise his cases. He didn't want any cross-contamination, people linking cases before there was evidence to do so. One of his first cases as an Auror went badly wrong because back then, everybody knew everybody's business."

"Josiah also had a laptop computer, one of the special Stark ones designed to work in a magical environment. That also seems to be missing. He only kept high-priority or very sensitive material on it."

"Thank you, Mr St Clare. Mr Kodogo, the report you furnished says that Mr Manahal returned to the office last night?"

Kodogo nodded. "He left about five-thirty, as usual. But he come back about nine o'clock, according to the security log. Then about nine-fifteen, young Mr Thomas come in. They both come straight up here. Mr Thomas, he leave about ten-fifteen."

"And Mr Manahal?" Draco asked.

Kodogo shrugged. "Nobody see him leave. But he got a private Floo here." He indicated the unlit fireplace on one wall. "Everyone else got to sign in and out, but the Minister and Department heads, they can come and go as they please!"

"Rank hath its privileges." Draco noted. "Which in this case is a bloody nuisance!

"Well, thank you, gentlemen. Agent Wayne and I have work to do here. We will report back to you in due course."

It was a dismissal, and they took it as such., But at the door, Kodogo turned back. "I know you people got your eyes on young Thomas for this," he remarked, "but you ask me, you dealing with one real bad _bokor_ here!"

Storing away the comment for future exploration, Draco watched Wayne work. The muggle agent was examining the spear. He straightened up and said to Draco.

"Right! This is a harpoon, like I said, but not an ordinary one. Your standard whaling harpoon has an asymmetric toggling barb and is attached to a rope or line. The trick was for the rowers to get the boat close to a whale. Then the harpooneer used to stand up and plant one of these things in the poor brute. The barb was to make it stay, the line to attach it to the boat.

"The drag of the boat stopped the whale running too far or fast, or sounding deep. Then it was a matter of hanging on during the first frantic rush – must have been a wild ride and that's where a lot of boats were lost and men killed - until the whale got tired and slowed down. They they'd haul to boat up close again, the mate who steered and commanded the boat would change places with the harpooneer, and kill the whale by stabbing it with a lance until he hit a vital spot or the whale bled out or drowned. That is, if the whale didn't just turn round and smash the boat to matchwood!"

"Barbaric." Draco remarked. "But I suppose that technique is no longer in use. However, you said that this harpoon was unusual?"

Wayne nodded. "It has a double barb, for one thing. For another, it's not a toggling barb. The idea of a toggling barb was that on impact, part of the tip twists sideways to lock the harpoon in and stop it being pulled out.

"This harpoon isn't about catching anything, it's about killing. Like a war-spear, it's designed so that it goes in easy, but can't be pulled out without completely eviscerating the victim.

"I've done a rapid scan of the metal. I'll need to take a sample back to my lab to confirm, but it looks to me like a high-grade carbon steel. Again, odd, because a modern weapon would almost certainly be a titanium or vanadium steel alloy. This looks nineteenth-century to me.

"There's a word carved into the shaft. Not unusual; a lot of harpooneers had their own weapon and would carve their name into it, along with various signs and symbols for good luck -a lot of them were pagans picked up by whalers or merchant ships from all parts of the world.

"But in this case, it seems to be the name of the ship the harpooneer served on. _Nautilus_. Never heard of it, but the only whaling ship I ever heard of was the _Pequod_."

"It rings a faint bell." Draco said musingly. "No doubt it will come to me. Anything else?"

"What I was about to look at." Wayne told him. "The shaft is a couple feet shorter than it should be."

One good thing about working with Colonials, Draco noted privately, was that they still used proper measurements. These metres and centimetres were quite impenetrable to him!

"Hello, there!" Wayne said. "We've got a thread here. Something is meant to be screwed onto the end of this shaft! What exactly is gonna take some figuring out, I guess!"

"Perhaps not, and we will consult with Agent Delacourt on that, shortly." Draco told him. "Anything else?"

"Yeah." Wayne replied. "Whole thing is lousy with fingerprints! Who the Hell leaves fingerprints on a murder weapon these days?"

"Two kinds of people." Draco informed him. "An old-fashioned wizard who neither knows nor cares about fingerprints, or a more modern wizard who knows that his prints will not be on any system. The Aurors in Britain only began to use fingerprint identification in 1998, at the urging of Harry Potter. The FBS has only been using them since the 1950s and does not share its files with the IAFIS system to this day.

"Only a tiny percentage of wizards have ever had their prints taken, and even fewer are on any form of - what is the word – database."

He pronounced it _dah_tabase, which sounded wrong to Bruce. Then again, Brits talked funny anyway. But this one was better than most; talked like Alexander Dane in _Galaxy Quest_.

Just then, Gabrielle appeared at the door. "Anything I can do?" She asked.

"Indeed." Draco told her. "You are, I believe, gifted with the Sight?"

She nodded. "You wish me to See - if I can - what 'appened 'ere?"

"If you would be so good." Draco replied. Bruce smiled to himself again – the guy could make giving an order sound like you were doing him a favour!

Gabrielle moved to stand beside the dead mans' chair. "It is better if you remain close." She told them. "But please do not speak until I am done."

She closed her eyes for a moment, and when she opened them again they were focused... _elsewhere._ Almost immediately she began to walk, quickly, toward the door. The office was an end corridor one, and the doors to Manahals' and Miss Truebloods' offices were in line. Gabrielle marched straight down the corridor to the last office on the left, and stopped in the doorway. She stood for a moment, then closed her eyes and re-opened them, turning to Draco.

"Eet was done from 'ere!" She said firmly. "But zere was no magic. All I sense is steel, and speed. There was something made of steel that reached all ze way from 'ere to where ze body was."

Her French accent became somewhat more pronounced under stress or excitement, Draco noted. It was what Harry called a 'tell', and she might need to work on it. He turned to the young Auror who stood at the entrance to the corridor.

"Whose office is this, do you know?" He asked.

"Mr Thomas'" He was told. He'd been expecting that.

"Agent Wayne, would you?" He asked.

Wayne nodded and went into the office. Draco stood in the corridor for a moment. Something was nagging at him. "Mlle Delacourt, come with me, please!" He said abruptly, and set off down the corridor with long strides, forcing Gabrielle to trot to keep up with him.

"I am not an abnormally sensitive or perceptive man." He told her. "But I do try to be observant. There is something in Manahals' office we - I – am missing. I am sure of it."

Back in the office, Gabrielle began another careful search. Draco, however, stood in the middle of the room and glanced around, quickly, then more slowly. Then he moved, and did it again. Little by little, he approached a small table that stood beside the fireplace. Finally, he stepped quickly forward, not looking directly at the table, and picked something up. There was the crack of a broken spell, and he was holding a laptop computer.

"Clever," he murmured, "very clever!" Then to Gabrielles' surprised look, he said. "A Perception Charm. Rather than render something completely invisible – which can make it awkward to find – the Charm simply prevents a person seeing the object if they are looking directly at it. You can, however, see it out of the corner of your eye, as it were. Clearly whoever searched this room was either ignorant of the Charm, or deceived by it."

"It is Manahals'?" She asked.

"I believe so." Draco examined the device. "This is a Stark Model M-13, specifically designed to work in high-magic environments. Higher-level officials at most Ministries of Magic can obtain them. They are mostly used by those who have frequent contact with muggles, but also by those who need access to large amounts of information and would rather not be buried in parchment!

"I dare say Agent Ramsay will want a look at this."

It was at that point that St Clare appeared at the doorway, a worried-looking Bruce in tow.

"Mr Malfoy?" He said. "We've just had a notification from the muggle police. Annabelle Trueblood has been killed!"


	3. Chapter 3

**Professor Iye**

**Chapter Three**

The street was a quiet residential one. The houses, though modestly-sized, were comfortable and each was set back from the pavement behind its own well-tended front garden. At the moment, however there were police cars and an ambulance parked at odd angles, all centring around the small canvas shelter where the body lay.

Draco parked his car near the junction -a good distance from the official vehicles – just behind the SHIELD SUV that had brought the other members of his team. Kent and Willow had been joined by another man, a medium-sized fellow with brown hair and sharp features, who Draco greeted with a hurried handshake.

"Dr Howser, glad to have you on board." He said. "Sorry for making you hit the ground running, as it were, but events march!"

Howser shrugged. "I was a trauma surgeon when I was sixteen, Agent Malfoy, I'm used to working this way!"

They made their way down to the police barriers, where the production of SHIELD IDs got them immediate admittance. Howser went into the tent to look at the body, Draco sent Wayne to speak with the muggle police while he spoke to the Aurors on scene.

There wasn't much they could tell him. As PA to the Head of the Auror Section, Miss Truebloods' name had been on a list that was kept at police HQ. Any incident in which people on that list were involved had to be flagged up to the Aurors. But this was a crime committed in a muggle area by muggle methods, and the Aurors were at a loss and inclined to let the muggle police handle it.

Wayne and Howser confirmed that to Draco shortly after.

"Classic drive-by." Wayne noted. "Car coming down the street, slows down next to the lady, guy leans out the back window, puts a couple shots into her, then the car took off. He burned some rubber getting away, but there's nothing unusual about the tyres. Couple witnesses, both pretty shook up, but we got a make and model and a partial plate. Enough for a BOLO."

"BOLO?" Draco asked.

"Be On Look Out." Supplied the laconic Kent. "This is a nice area, not many drive-bys here. They happen all the time in other parts of town."

"Cause of death was GSW -Gun Shot Wounds -to the chest." Howser reported. "Two shots, closely-grouped, so the guy's an expert. Both through and through but they've got the slugs. Ballistics might identify the weapon if it's been used before."

"If he's a pro," Willow remarked, "he won't use the same gun twice."

"Then I suggest," Draco said, "that we leave the police to their job. We can speak with them later and find out if they have any leads."

They began to walk back to their vehicles. Just as they reached them, a car came across the intersection, suddenly slowing. A figure leaned out of the back window. Kent stepped smartly in front of Draco, as two shots sounded -a classic double-tap. Kent grunted and staggered. Draco put out his hands to support the man, who seemed impossibly heavy and solid, but he didn't fall.

The driver gunned the engine, but Willow waved a hand, and the front of the car crumpled as if it had hit a brick wall. There was a slight pause, then the driver bailed, only to be knocked down by a Stun hex from Gabrielle. Kent covered the distance to the car with a single prodigious bound, slapped the gun aside, wrenched the back door off its hinges, then casually hauled the assassin out of it and tossed him toward Draco, who fielded him with _levicorpus. _The man hung upside-down in mid-air, staring wildly around him, until Wayne stepped up and planted a solid left on his jaw, knocking him cold.

Draco went straight up to Kent. "Are you well, Agent Kent?"

"I've been better." The stocky man allowed, with a grimace.

"Good job you were wearing a vest." Howser told him as he came up.

"I'm not." Kent told him. "But I got advantages." His shirt was indeed bloodstained around the bullet-holes, but little more than a trickle seemed to be coming from the wounds.

"There's a Med-kit in the SUV." Howser said. "I can patch you up till we can get you to a hospital."

Kent shook his head. "No hospital." He insisted. "Just get me back to the plane, and you can do what's needed."

Howser looked at Draco, who nodded. "You, I and Miss Rosenberg will take him in my car. Mr Wayne and Mlle Delacourt will bring our prisoners in the four-by-four."

As they drove, Willow remarked to Draco. "Cool-looking wand you've got there."

Draco nodded. "I am rather pleased with it. It's my third, you know, purchased in preparation for this job."

"Ollivander, right?" Willow said. "So's mine. They say he makes the best wands in the world."

"He is certainly well regarded among British and North American wizards." Draco noted. "Mine is rather unusual. Eleven and three-quarter inches, sturdy, ebony and cockatrice feather."

Willow whistled. "Never heard of one like that!"

"Rather unique, I agree." Draco allowed. "It seems to work for me, but time will tell."

Back at the plane, Howser led Kent off to the Sickbay. Draco handed the laptop over to Ramsay, then said. "I suspect that lunch is in order, and a chance to collect our thoughts. Agent Rhodes, if you could deal with our prisoners? We will meet up in the Briefing Room in, say, an hour and three quarters."

In the sickbay, Kent removed his shirt and lay down on the bed as directed. Howser examined him carefully. The agents' torso and arms were heavily, almost grotesquely, muscular, he noted. The bleeding from the two wounds had stopped, but they were still open and ugly. Howser sprayed some local anaesthetic onto Kents' chest, then probed the wounds, finding them no more than half-an-inch deep.

"What the heck?" He exclaimed.

"Dense muscle fibres." Kent told him. "Get the slugs out and put some antiseptic on, I'll be fine. But my skin's artificial, so you'll need to use the laser seal on it."

With some trepidation, Dr Howser took the forceps and felt around in the wounds, duly extracting a partially-flattened slug from each of them.

"I don't believe this!" He said. "The bullets actually flattened and stopped in the outer layer of muscle. You're a mutant, right?"

Kent shook his head. "No, just not from around here."

"An alien?" Howser asked. "You come through the StarGate?"

"Nah." Kent said. "By accident. Look, I was born on a world -nearest I can make the sound in this air is Kri-ton -that was massive and had a red sun, right? So my people evolved to cope with that.

"But there was a war, and some fool used a bio-weapon that got out of control. My Dad and his friends got together as many people as they could and took them into a quarantine area. But they knew they only had a certain amount of time before the sickness got in. They had a third of the population there, lots of folks with babies, including me.

"Well, you live on a heavy world, you don't do much space-travel. Getting escape velocity is a bitch. They had all kinds of other stuff – AI computers, holographics, robotics, NLS drives – but the only way to get a big ship out of the atmosphere was by using nuclear bombs as rocket fuel, so any launch-site, people couldn't go to after a while.

"They had star-scanning satellites up, though. and they'd found a world enough like ours that it was like home. But it was gonna take years to get there. So in the end they built a couple million ships, each one with a home-like environment, an AI to navigate and teach, holographics to change the look of things and androids to look after us. One kid to each ship. Then they put all the ships into a thousand big launch vehicles and blew themselves to Hell getting us off-world.

"Better than the plague, right?"

Howser was shaken by the enormity of the sacrifice, but then his curiosity took over.

"How did you end up here?" He asked. "Earths' nothing like your world."

Kent shrugged. "Statistics." He said simply. "It's a big Galaxy, and all kindsa stuff can happen. There were two million of us, like I said, but Dad figured if we flew as one fleet, or all on one ship, anything that took out one of us would take out too many of the rest as well. So each ship had its own route, to keep us separate. That way, we had a better chance of a viable population for the colony.

"I got unlucky, then lucky. Unlucky 'cause I got hit by a meteor nineteen years into the trip. Lucky 'cause I crash-landed here, a world I could live on, and a world where some people, at least, don't try to kill anything strange on sight. I got found by a couple, John and Martha Kent, who took me to their home, fed me, patched me up, taught me English and took care of me.

"Then UNIT turned up. A Brit officer called Lethbridge-Stewart, and his Scientific Advisor -never knew his name, they just called him the Doctor. Seems like this Doctor knew about Kri-Ton, and he persuaded UNIT to let me stay with the Kents. I got an identity, got help with my problems, and then when I was ready, I joined SHIELD."

"Your problems being?" Howser asked. "Speaking as your doctor."

Kent grinned at him. "My people evolved, and I grew up, under about four times Earth gravity. My bones and muscles are really dense and heavy, but I only weigh about a quarter of what I'd weigh back home. Result, I'm fast and strong, and things like low-calibre soft-nosed bullets, shotgun pellets and short knives tend to get stopped before they penetrate far. Jacketed or Teflon slugs, combat knives and so forth, I'm as vulnerable as the next guy.

"The downside is that your yellow sun is way too bright for me. I have to wear these shades from sunup to sunset and under artificial light. I'm colour-blind to anything above green in your spectrum, though I can see quite a ways into what you call the infra-red. My species doesn't get cancer -we don't have the rogue gene that causes it – but under your sun my natural skin just blisters straight off with the UV. I could only go out at night until Starks' people gave me this artificial skin.

"Also, I have gills as well as lungs." He showed Howser the slits on the side of his neck. "The atmosphere back home was kinda soupy, so we needed both to breathe properly. Means I can breathe underwater indefinitely. That also means that I needed implants to hear high-frequency sounds, and why my voice is odd. Lot of the sounds on Kri-Ton were what you'd call subsonic.

"What they call swings and roundabouts, huh?"

"Guess so." Howser allowed. "They told me I've got medical files on all of you here, so I'll just have to check through them. I'll put some sutures in these wounds, then seal the skin. Take it easy a while, you should be fine. I'll give you some pain-killers and some antibiotics, just in case. Any allergies?"

"Not that I know of." Kent told him.

The break had, of necessity, been a short one, but everyone seemed better for it, Draco noted. A pot of Darjeeling and some ham sandwiches had gone a long way to improving his own state of mind and body, as well.

"I would like to begin," he announced, "by welcoming our newest member. Dr Douglas Howser comes to us from Stargate Command, where he has been studying xenobiology -whatever that might be – and will serve as our team medical officer. I understand that he has a remarkable record, having qualified in his teens, and has not only served as a resident surgeon in a hospital, but also in the field with _Medecins sans Frontieres_. He is also qualified in Forensic Pathology, which is likely to be very useful to us.

"Again, welcome, Dr Howser."

Howser waved a hand. "Just call me Doug." He told them.

"We already got a Doug." Rhodey noted.

"S'okay." Ramsay chimed in. "Call me _Cypher_. It was my X-Man codename back in the day, and I'm used to it."

"The next thing I want to say," Draco carried on, "is that I have been most impressed with everyone's professionalism today. As you all know, we had expected a few days to become accustomed to each other before we began work. However, events have overtaken us and we have been plunged in at the deep end, as it were. You have all responded superbly, and I am only grateful, as a newcomer to field operations, that I will have your support."

Rhodey noted that everyone looked pleased at this. _Way to get people onside, Boss!_ He thought. _So much for not being a people person!_

"Now, to business." Draco said. "Agent Rhodes, what of our prisoners?"

"Singing like canaries!" Rhodes announced. "These guys ain't wizards or HYDRA agents. They're just local gang-bangers hired for a job. Soon as they knew they were up against SHIELD, they didn't even ask for lawyers, just started talking.

"Problem is, they don't know jack! They were hired by a local guy, the Number Man, they call him. Apparently, he pays well, but you jump when he speaks.

"I checked with the police, and they know him. His real name's Jean-Baptiste LeNoir. He came here from Haiti about five years ago with a lot of money and a bad reputation. He's into everything around here, drugs, prostitution, gambling, arms, the works. But he's basically running a protection racket. If a crook wants their operation to go smooth, you pay the Number Man. You want a nosy cop or a rival gone, you pay the Number Man and he makes it happen.

"Trouble is, he's clever and he's got high-priced lawyers and other help, so the police can't get any kind of evidence. The guys we've got in Holding here are safe while we've got 'em, but if we hand them over to the local police, they'll be dead before the day's out. They're begging us to send them to the US, where they can escape."

"I see." Draco considered, then. "Agent Rhodes, find out everything you can about this LeNoir. Also, arrange handover or our prisoners to the local police as soon as practicable."

"That's a death sentence." Willow pointed out. "Kinda ruthless, Dr...Agent Malfoy."

"I am aware." Draco told her. "And it is not a decision I take lightly. However, if our Number Man is satisfied that he is still safe, he will not take extra precautions that will make matters more difficult for us.

"Agent Rhodes, you will strongly suggest to the police that they place these individuals under special guard. It may be that, if we can act quickly enough, LeNoir will not have time to eliminate them before we take him down.

"In the meantime, I will ask the Aurors here if LeNoir is known to them. He is clearly linked to the case we have in hand, whether through van Roek or another intermediary.

"Agent Ramsay, have you had any success with the laptop?"

Ramsay grinned. "No problems at all! These Stark military or police models are all designed with an override code for SHIELD or UNIT to get into them. Just for this kind of case. Also, like a lot of people, Mr Manahal used the on-board encryption systems to protect his files, so I was able to get into them with no problem.

"Seems that Mr Manahal was interested in LeNoir. LeNoir owns an import-export company that's been shipping in a lot of stuff recently. Not contraband, but strange. High end, high tech components from all over the world. Then as soon as it's shipped in, it's shipped out again, nobody seems to know where to. The consignee is a shell company that traces back to a shell company that our intel says is a HYDRA front.

"Manahal was interested because LeNoir is a wizard, it seems. Manahal calls him an 'Outsider', though. What does that mean?"

The three wizards shared a puzzled glance. "Never heard the term." Draco allowed. "Carry on, please."

"OK." Ramsay went on. "Manahal suspected that LeNoir has people inside the Ministry, maybe even the Aurors, so when Dean Thomas came over, he co-opted him into the investigation. They suspected something had gone wrong somewhere when van Roek turned up and went straight to see LeNoir. A couple of LeNoir's key people went missing shortly after, so Manahal figured that somebody'd been skimming a little extra, or talking to the wrong people.

"Last note is that Dean Thomas had contacted van Roek, posing as a potential client for his troubleshooting talents."

"Why would a wizard buy high-tech components?" Willow asked. "It'd be like a muggle buying potion ingredients."

"For resale, of course." Draco said. "Many wizard alchemical shops use muggle companies to import the more exotic reagents from abroad. HYDRA may simply be making use of LeNoir due to his nefarious reputation -such people seldom ask awkward questions – unaware that he is a wizard.

"By the same token, van Roek has as many muggle as he does wizard clients. In the interests of maintaining secrecy, HYDRA do occasionally use external contractors.

"Nevertheless, we need to pay LeNoir a visit, I think.

"Thank you, Agent Ramsay. Agent Wayne, do you have anything more for us?"

Bruce nodded. "I examined the harpoon more closely. It _is_ nineteenth century. Taking on board what Gabrielle saw, and measuring the angles of fire and so on, I'd be willing to bet that it was actually wire-guided. What that means is that there's a wire attached to a device that has fins and rudders on it. The wire leads back to the gun and allows the shooter to control the direction of the harpoon in flight. That would explain the couple of feet missing from the end of the shaft; it was the guidance system.

"I also looked up _Nautilus_. It was the name of the advanced submarine designed and built in the nineteenth century by one Prince Dakkar, alias..."

"Captain Nemo!" Draco said. "I knew the name rang a bell, but I could not bring the context to mind.

"Do you have anything else?"

Bruce nodded again. "There were prints all over the place, but none on any system – no surprise there. But I was able to eliminate Dean Thomas. All active Aurors are required to have their prints and DNA registered on the Interpol database, and the ones on the harpoon aren't his.

"When I looked at his office I found a ring on the blotter, like when you put a cup down? Only it was too small for a cup, looked like a small bottle or a shot glass. I took a sample and analysed it, but what I found didn't make sense, so I showed it to Willow."

Willow leaned forward. "It was a potion, but not like any I've seen before. Nearest I can make out, looking at the ingredients, is that it was some kind of Polyjuice Potion, but very primitive. You'd have to take doses real often to keep it topped up, like every ten minutes or so. There was blood in it, which I sent back to Bruce. He confirmed it was Deans' blood."

"So now we know how the assassin got into the Ministry, and we know Dean was alive last night. You can't Polyjuice into a dead person, tissue from a corpse won't work."

"Wait a minute!" Howser said. "Wouldn't this potion change the persons' fingerprints as well?"

"Only until the potion wears off." Willow told him. "Prints come from skin oils, you know, and as soon as they're away from the person, the potion effect degrades and they turn right back to the real prints in seconds. Same goes for shed skin cells and hair."

"Weird!" Howser commented.

"_C'est le magique."_ Gabrielle told him.

"Very well." Draco said. "Thank you everyone, for your contributions. Now we must take the next step. We need to discuss matters with this LeNoir.

"Agent Rhodes, Mlle Delacourt, if you could obtain details of LeNoirs' residence and come up with a plan to get us in there? By force or infiltration, whichever is most effective, bearing in mind that, for Mr Thomas at least, time may be of the essence.

"I will return to the Ministry with Miss Rosenberg and find out what they know about LeNoir. The rest of you may busy yourselves as you see fit, except for you, Agent Kent. You will rest, understood?"

The reaction at the Ministry to the mention of LeNoir was immediate and negative. St Clare shook his head dolefully, while Kodogo nodded sagely and remarked: "I said you dealing with a _bokor_!"

"What, exactly, is a _bokor_?" Draco wanted to know.

"A _bokor_is a dark wizard who comes from the Vodou tradition." St Clare told him. "The term, and the practice, originates in Haiti. Vodou is actually a religion, made up out of African traditions from different tribes and areas, with a mix of Roman Catholicism and some other traditions. When Francois Duvalier -they called him 'Papa Doc' – became President of Haiti in 1957, he acknowledged Vodou as an official religion and that's never changed.

"The only problem – and really most of the time it isn't one – is that some of the Vodou priests and priestesses, the Houngans and Mambos, are wizards and witches. But they hold to the old African traditions, ignore the Statute of Secrecy and practice their magic for and on muggles. I mean, they're very secretive about how they do it, but they make no bones about it being magic. What they don't do is acknowledge the authority of the White Council or any Ministry of Magic. Duvalier became President with the support of a lot of wizards and one of the first things he did was abolish the Bureau des Sorcieres that the French colonists had set up. So we have an entire country with no magical regulation."

"That's kinda like the States used to be." Willow noted. "It wasn't until the 1960s that the Native American shamans acknowledged the White Council. Some of them still don't recognise the FBS.

"But we got Vodou wizards in Louisiana and some of the other Southern States, and they work with the FBS."

St Clare nodded. "They would, that's why they left Haiti. They didn't like the way things were being run. But the _bokors_, the dark wizards, they just love it! Usually, if they get out of hand, either the local wizards take care of them, or they call in Aurors from the Dominican Republic on the other side of the island.

"But this LeNoir is a clever man. Between his muggle criminal friends, and the fear the locals held him in, he got away with it for years. But he finally made Haiti too hot to hold him, so he came here. We can't arrest him because we've got nothing on him, and he's too clever for the muggle police."

"So that's why the weird potion." Willow remarked. "The White Council and the Ministries control regular potion ingredients, he wouldn't be able to get them."

"That, and the preference of Haitian wizards for traditional recipes." St Clare agreed.

"Well, this has been most informative, thank you." Draco said. "It does seem that we will need to pay M LeNoir a visit. Things may get a trifle noisy, so I hope we can rely on the Ministry to provide what is called 'smoke out'?"

"As Acting Head of the Auror Department, I can promise you won't be hindered." St Clare announced.

"Thank you." Draco responded. "Our SHIELD authorisation assures us of the muggle polices' cooperation.

"Agent Rosenberg and I had best be about our business. Mr Kodogo, I was asked to give you this by London. It is the latest Security update."

He handed Kodogo a folder. Ephraim opened it and glanced at the first page, then closed it and looked up at Draco.

"I'll get on this right away." He said.

"And we will be on our way." Draco said. "We must prepare for our evening out!"


	4. Chapter 4

**Professor Iye**

**Chapter Four**

Agent Wayne, Draco noted, was in his element, spreading out his toys for display. But it was Willow who spoke first.

"This isn't like any party-dress I ever wore!" She noted with a grin.

"I ain't complaining!" Dr Howser responded. "You ladies are looking pretty good!"

The SHIELD combat suits fitted like a second skin, which for Willow and especially Gabrielle, was either a big plus or a considerable negative, depending on your viewpoint. Draco merely wondered how Astoria would look in one. For himself, used to wizard robes or muggle suits, he found the freedom of movement allowed by the lightweight garments rather exhilarating.

"OK, now listen up!" Wayne took charge. "These are infiltration and light combat suits. They make them from a sandwich of unstable polymer, fine metal mesh and micro-padding. They have auto-camouflage, don't tear easy, self-repair when they do, and provide some protection. They won't _stop_ a knife or a bullet, but they will absorb some of the damage. Unfortunately, Willow and I haven't had time to work on a way to spell-proof them yet.

"These are night-vision goggles. They automatically adjust to the amount of light around to provide optimum vision. The range includes both infra-red and ultra-violet, so you'll be good in anything short of total black-out. These earbeads have a range of twenty miles or so and are your link to control and each other. Nose-filters for gas and smoke.

"Now, weapons!" He held up a largish pistol of unusual design, with the magazine in front of the trigger rather than built into the butt.

"Looks like an old Mauser." Rhodey commented.

Wayne nodded. "Does, kinda, but this is the latest thing Stark produced for us. We've been working for years on a way to make one gun fire different kinds of ammo, right? "

Rhodey nodded again. "The main problem is either selecting the type of ammo you want to fire from several different clips, or clearing an unspent round of one kind from the chamber so you can fire a different one."

"Right!" Wayne acknowledged. "Well, this model gets round that by making the chamber part of the clip instead of part of the gun itself. Took a while to get over the gas seal problem so we didn't lose muzzle velocity, but Stark managed it. It means you have to change the clip to change ammo, but that takes no longer than a normal reload.

"The original prototype was a nine-mil, but I beefed it up to 10.5 for more power. The barrel has a built-in suppressor to minimise flash and noise. These are the magazines, colour-coded. White are tranks, put your guy down for a couple hours. Grey are standard hollow-point tactical rounds. Blue are armour-piercing. Red are incendiary, yellow high-explosive. Fifteen rounds to the clip, unless our magical friends want to increase that?"

"We can triple that without adding to the weight of the magazine." Draco noted. "But experience has shown that any more will alter the balance and aiming characteristics of a muggle weapon. We'll see to that once the briefing is over. Anything more, Agent Wayne?"

Wayne shrugged. "Everything else is standard. Mini-grenades; stun, HE, incendiary and tear-gas. Combat knives, standard; ceramic throwing knives and suriken. Also, small demolition charges and detonators. Knock yourselves out, people!"

"What are we gonna be up against?" Agent Kent wanted to know.

"According to the information we have," Draco told them all, "LeNoir is protected by twenty or so muggle guards, recruited from local gangs. They will be proficient in the use of small arms and close combat.

"There are also at least three other wizards in his organisation, all of whom were recruited locally. As such, they are almost certainly wand-trained and probably competent in the Dark Arts and duelling.

"A word of warning. According to information given me by the Domincan Republic Ministerio de Magia, Haitian wizards do not practice magic as we do. They do not use wands, but are only capable of low-level wandless magic. They rely more on constructs and artefacts. Watch out for signs and circles drawn on the floor and walls, and for unusual objects, figurines or images. Any of them might contain a curse or magical trap.

"There is a rumour that LeNoir is an expert in the production of Zombies."

"Inferi?" Gabrielle asked. "Unless in great numbers, Inferi are not dangerous to skilled wizards."

"Not Inferi." Draco told her. "Zombies." He addressed the group as a whole. "Inferi are reanimated corpses -shambling,pathetic things. Dangerous in numbers, as Agent Delacourt noted, but most used to frighten superstitious muggles. Zombies, however, are living people who have been dosed with a potion which combines the effects of an Oblivius Charm -wiping out the memory – and an Imperius Curse, which makes them subject to the casters' command.

"They are therefore as quick and capable as any human, totally loyal, and disregard pain and fatigue. However, the potion must be administered regularly, and is both expensive and difficult to produce. Also, unless the wizard controlling them is exceptionally strong-willed, it is difficult to maintain more than one or two unless they are set to perform a simple, repetitive task. To use a Zombie in combat requires great concentration from the controlling wizard.

"As to fighting them, they are not invulnerable, but they do ignore pain, so must be incapacitated or killed."

"And to think," Rhodey commented, "that I could've gotten a job at my uncles' auto shop."

"Yeah. Right. As if." Kent replied.

LeNoirs' mansion was set back from the road in its own grounds, a few miles outside the city. Draco and his team were in a truck, parked under some trees a short distance away. Inside the truck, Agents Wayne and Ramsay were working on an array of sophisticated electronics.

"OK." Wayne was saying. "The MiniSats' on station. We've got two storeys above ground and a basement. Perimeter is an eight-foot stone wall with a ten-foot electrified fence three yards back. We've got four guards patrolling the alley with fur-coated razor blades."

"Fur-coated what?" Draco demanded.

"He means dogs." Rhodey told him. "Dobermanns. Fast, smart and dangerous."

"I see." Draco nodded. "My apologies, Agent Wayne, but I am not yet accustomed to your professional terminology. Please carry on."

"Right. According to the infra-red, we got six more on the first floor -ground floor if you're English – two by the main entrance, one by the back door, three patrolling the rooms and one sitting in a room, probably monitoring the CCTV and comms. In the basement, we got seven, but one looks like he's restrained. Then on the upper floor there are ten, mostly by windows or on balconies. Looks like they're covering the grounds."

"Good luck with that!" Rhodes remarked. "In these suits, as long as we move slow and easy, they won't see us until we're on top of them. How you doing, Cypher?"

"I'm in!" Ramsay reported. "Easy hack -for a mutant with code-breaking powers – I've got the CCTV on a loop and disabled the alarm systems. You've got about an hour before anybody notices anything. I can blank their comms as soon as you make contact."

The door to the truck opened and Gabrielle came in. She had been outside, using her Sight to assess any magical defences. "Each of the muggle cameras was matched with a Sneakoscope." She reported. "I 'ave disabled them. There are many magical sigils and artefacts scattered around the 'ouse, but I 'ave cast a charm so that any we approach will glow a vivid green. I could not counter all of them, but at least we will 'ave warning. There is one wizard on each floor, at least, but three in the basement.

"The wind outside is very fresh, and should carry our scent away from the dogs at first."

"Very well." Draco said. "Agent Ramsay, I take it that you are able to see to matters here?"

Ramsay gave him the thumbs up. "Bet on it, Agent Malfoy!"

"Were I a gambling man, I undoubtedly should," Draco told him, "though not necessarily the family silver!" He turned to the rest.

"We go in together over the wall, and deal with the perimeter guards as silently and expeditiously as possible. After that, we split into three teams. Agents Delacourt and Kent will have responsibility for the upper floor. Agents Wayne and Rosenberg will secure the ground floor. Agent Rhodes and I will attempt to enter by the rear with a view to taking the basement.

"I appreciate that matters will become noisy after a while, but I urge you to be as stealthy as possible for as long as possible. Unless, of course, there is a tactical advantage in noise. I would also request that the use of lethal force be kept to a minimum -corpses are notoriously difficult to interrogate, even for a wizard. That said, your first priority is self-defence.

"This will be something of a trial by fire, ladies and gentlemen, and having only just met all of you, I am in no hurry to lose any of you! Keep an eye out for each other, and remember that no-one is to be left behind."

Rhodey was both surprised and impressed by the ease and agility with which Draco mastered the eight-foot outer wall. The mans' formal yet languid attitude appeared to mask a high level of physical competence. Downwind of the dogs, and stealth-trained, the team quickly disposed of the outer guard patrols and penetrated the deactivated inner fence. Now they spread through the grounds, avoiding open spaces where possible and relying on their suits and Disillusionment charms when needed. Draco had handled all of this with aplomb so far, but one thing still bothered Rhodey.

"Permission to speak freely, sir?" He asked, as he and Draco waited in a shrubbery close to the rear door.

"Certainly." Draco replied.

"I don't feel right about you being unarmed." Rhodey admitted. "Makes me feel too responsible for you. Like I've got to guard you rather than concentrate on the mission."

"I'm not unarmed." Draco reminded him, showing his wand.

"Yeah, well there's the problem." Rhodey said. "I don't know what that wand can do. I never worked with a wizard before. I'd feel a lot happier if you'd taken a gun as well. For backup."

"I do see your point." Draco allowed. "It's a matter of what you're accustomed to. I dislike firearms. They lack versatility and are clumsy and heavy compared to a wand. As to what I can do with this, you will see that presently."

Clark was scanning the balcony above the main door. He was not wearing goggles, Gabrielle noted, but he had also left off his dark glasses.

"There's two guys on that balcony." He told her. "They've got AK47s or something like that. How do we get up there?"

Gabrielle looked up at the tree they were sheltering under. It was well-grown, with thick foliage.

"Give me a boost, Clark?" She invited.

He hoisted her easily to the lower branches, and she swarmed up toward the top, relying on the wind to disguise her movements. Once level with the balcony, she took a careful look, then dropped cautiously down again.

"_Bien_." She said. "I 'ave seen into the room behind them, and there is room for us to Apparate. I can do this silently, and take you with me, Clark, but it will be an unpleasant experience for you. Will you be able to do this?"

"I've done some weird stuff in my time, Gabrielle." He told her. "I don't think it'll phase me."

"Very well." She said, then for the benefit of everyone else. "We are going in now." She took Clarks' hand and disapparated.

It _was_ an unpleasant experience, like being squeezed through a narrow tube, but it took more than that to disorient the veteran SHIELD agent, and his tranquilliser slug took down one guard just as Gabrielles' silent Stun hex dropped the other.

"Sleeping on the job." He commented.

"One cannot get the staff, _n'est-ce pas?" _Gabrielle replied.

The single guard in the next room went down just as silently. Unfortunately, they approached the next door just as someone came out of it. The man had no gun, but gave a yell of warning and started to raise a wand. Clark knocked him aside, moving in a blur that belied his stocky bulk, he crossed the room beyond in two strides. The men by the window had barely turned when he was on them, taking them down fast and hard.

Gabrielle had dealt with the wizard in a short, fierce and one-sided duel, but the damage had been done. She dived into the room ahead of a rattle of gunfire.

"Party's started!" Clark yelled, then lobbed a mini-grenade out of the door. It was a stun grenade that went off with a deafening bang and a dazzling flash. Clark and Gabrielle sortied out of the room fast to deal with the staggering gunmen.

Down by the main entrance, Bruce and Willow had been waiting. Willow had produced her wand from the storage space in her bionic arm.

"I'm gonna need to be precise here." She remarked. "We don't need any friendly fire!"

"Why didn't you get that to flick the wand straight into your hand?" Bruce asked. "You could have a kinda quick-draw thing going."

She shook her head. "Can't do magic with my bionic hand." She told him. "In this hand, it's a wand, but in the other, it's just a stick. I could do it with the old artificial arm, 'cause that worked on magic, but the techno-arm blocks the energy somehow."

"Weird stuff, this magic." Bruce noted. "I been doing some reading on the SHIELD and UNIT files. Sometimes it's like it obeys laws like physics -the inverse-square law, for one – but other times it just does what it likes."

Willow nodded. "I guess it goes more on gut-feel and emotion than actual laws." She said thoughtfully. "A wizard can do what they think or believe they can do, up to a point, but then a different set of rules kick in. Might be the laws of physics, or something else."

Then the ruckus upstairs started.

"Time to crash the party!" Bruce announced.

He dashed up to the door and attached a small charge of plastic explosive near the lock, then darted back toward Willow.

"Fire in the hole!" He called, and triggered the detonator.

The door blew open with an almighty bang, and Bruce and Willow charged through, taking down the shocked guards as they did so. A wizard charged out of one of the rooms, but whether he was skilled or not nobody found out because Bruce shot a tranquilliser into him on the spot.

Not to be outdone, Willow levitated one of the gunmen who followed him and threw him into his colleague. They went down in a tangle of limbs and were out cold before they could sort themselves out.

Sounds from the rear of the building indicated that Draco and Rhodes had already dealt with the guard there. Bruce turned to Willow.

"We take out the guy in the control room, then go see if Gabbi and Clark have left anything upstairs for us!"

Draco and Rhodey had received the same warning everyone else had. They made for the rear door.

"_Reducto_!" Draco barked, and the door flew into splinters. The guard had clearly been standing a little too close, and was staggered by the force of the spell and the shower of wood and glass. Draco lunged past him, delivering an elbow-strike to the mans' jaw that spun him around and laid him out.

_Nice_. Rhodey thought. _So much for Queensberry Rules!_

The basement door was in the kitchen. Draco unlocked it with _alohomora _to reveal a flight of steep stairs ending in another door. Rhodey was about to start down when Draco hissed a warning. In a niche in the wall just beyond the door stood a hideous little idol, glowing a vivid green.

Draco levitated it out of the niche, and was deciding how to disenchant it when the door at the bottom of the stairs opened to reveal a robed man. With a flick of his wand, Draco sent the idol flying down to crash into the wizards' face. He and Rhodey started down fast, but then another man stepped into the bottom doorway and raised a gun.

Draco flattened himself against the wall and cast a Shield charm that stopped the hail of bullets. Rhodey took careful aim and fired past him, putting the shooter down, then did the same to the man who replaced him.

They got to the foot of the stairs without further incident, but as he went through the door, Dracos' instincts kicked in and he ducked and rolled as a Killing curse slammed into the wall where his head had been.

Rhodey came round the door fast, looking for the caster, but his arm was seized and twisted so that he dropped his gun. He was spun out into the middle of the basement and found himself facing a bare-chested black colossus with a blank face and empty eyes. The man went for him again and Rhodey landed a solid punch to the gut. His opponent grunted and staggered, then came on, reaching for his throat. Rhodey got the sweep-kick in, sending his antagonist to the floor, but by now he had realised he was facing a Zombie.

Draco was on his feet and facing his own antagonist, who was none other than the South African, van Roek. The man was fighting to kill, which was unfortunate, as Draco would have preferred to capture him. The result was a few moments of stalemate as stray magic cracked more bricks and caused havoc among the items on desks and tables in the room. Then Draco changed tack, breaking through his opponent's guard with _sectumsempra_, opening several nasty gashes across van Roeks' face and upper torso. The response was a howl of pain and rage, followed by an _expelliarmus _that sent Dracos' wand skittering several feet away.

Willow, who had just got down the stairs, saw van Roek point his wand for what could only be a Killing Curse, and was about to intervene, when Draco threw something that slammed into the other man's wand arm.

The South African yelled again, saw Draco dive for his wand, and spun away from him. He pointed his wand at a figure sitting behind a desk at the back of the room and invoked "_Avada Kedavra!_" There was a flash of green light, and the Zombie who was grappling with Rhodey collapsed like a marionette whose strings had been cut. Van Roek immediately disapparated.

"What the Hell...?" Rhodey gasped, looking down at his former opponent. "I didn't do that!"

"No," Willow told him, "van Roek did. By killing that man." She pointed to the desk.

Draco was already there, and now tilted the shade of the desk lamp to reveal the body of an elderly, frail-looking black man. "Jean-Baptiste LeNoir, I presume." He said. "The late Jean-Baptiste LeNoir. He was obviously controlling the Zombie mentally, Rhodes, and when he died, that control stopped.

By this time the rest of the team had reached the basement.

"Is everyone well?" Draco asked.

"We're all fine." Bruce told him. "The bad guys are all out cold and trussed up. But why did van Roek kill LeNoir?"

"If I had to guess," Rhodey put in, "it was because LeNoir knew things van Roek or his boss don't want us to know. He was in no shape to carry on fighting, you had him on the ropes, Boss, and the others were coming. So he shut LeNoir up and took off."

"Very astute, Rhodes." Draco sighed. "I suppose I must become accustomed to being called 'Boss'. The sacrifices one makes..." He shook his head. There were grins among his team, they were beginning to catch on to Dracos' style. He became brisk again.

"Rhodes, Wayne, Kent and Miss Rosenberg, if you would be so good as to conduct a search of this room? I suspect that anything of use or value was kept here, see what you can find. Mlle Delacourt, if you would accompany me?"

Draco and Gabrielle made their way to a steel door set in the wall behind LeNoirs' desk. It opened to _alohomora_, and a sigil on the floor needed to be deactivated. The room was small, damp and dimly-lit. A tall, young black man in tattered clothes was chained to the back wall. As Gabrielle conjured a brighter light, he blinked a little, then shook his head in wry disbelief.

"I get captured by a white racist, interrogated by some kind of ju-ju man, then rescued by Draco bleeding Malfoy!" Dean Thomas said. "My day is complete!"

"Good to see you, too, Thomas." Draco replied. "Can you stand?"

"Probably not." Dean admitted. "They put me through the wringer a bit, mate."

"Quite so." Draco moved up to him. "If you release the chains, Mlle Delacourt, I will support him."

"Is that little Gabbi Delacourt?" Dean was obviously not entirely with it. "My, you've grown, girl! I used to fancy your sister something rotten!"

"I know." Gabrielle told him. "You and everyone else. It 'appens to me also. It is a cross we 'ave to bear."

Dean laughed, a laugh that ended in a coughing fit.

"Ramsay," Draco said over the comlink, "is Dr Howser onsite yet?"

"Just got here." Cypher replied.

"Good, we have a patient for him. We will bring him out. Stand by." Draco told him.

They got Dean out of the cell and handed him off to Clark, who half-carried him out.

"Have we anything of use?" Draco asked the others.

"We just might." Rhodey told him. "This guy LeNoir obviously didn't believe in computers, or even pen and paper. Everything's on parchment, but none of it makes sense. Just strings of weird symbols."

Draco looked at the roll of parchment proffered to him. "Alchemical symbols and runes." He noted. "Clearly a code of some kind. You may have to earn your pay, Ramsay. Anything else of interest?"

"Just some maps and charts." Bruce said. "But the notations are the same as the parchments."

"Good. Bring everything." Draco said. "Ramsay, please inform the local constabulary that they may come and collect the refuse. Ask them to give us a head start, we should try to be discreet.

"Ladies and gentlemen, you have all done excellent work this evening. I suggest we return to our more than commodious aeroplane with a view to a good nights' sleep. We may deal with officialdom and peruse our plunder tomorrow.

"Shall we proceed?"

As they filed out, Willow, bringing up the rear with Draco, asked quietly, "What was it you threw at him? Van Roek?"

Draco reached into his utility belt and pulled out one of the matte-black, ceramic _suriken_ throwing stars. "I had a couple of these to hand." He told her. "I am not entirely opposed to muggle weaponry, and find them particularly congenial."

"Nice to have something to fall back on." She noted.

"I would not," Draco said blandly, "recommend falling back on one of these."

Naturally, nobody went straight to bed, they were all too hyped, for one thing. For another, it was still rather before midnight.

Dr Howser had already settled his patient, reporting that Dean was exhausted, but had no severe injuries. Now he sat with the others in the planes' dining area, where sandwiches and beer were being served. Draco had retired, with a courteous goodnight, to his own quarters.

"I never," Clark noted, "worked for a senior Agent who didn't sit with the guys, at least sometimes. What is it with him?"

"No social skills, I guess." Willow told him. "There were some kids like that at Hogwarts, all the same as Draco. All Slytherins, all Purebloods from old families. A real closed group that got smaller every year."

"Whoah!" Rhodey said. "You're starting in the middle there, Willow. I get -we all get – that Pureblood means somebody who comes from an all-wizard family from way back. But what's a Slytherin?"

"OK." Willow said. "Well, at Hogwarts the kids are divided into four Houses when they arrive at school. Each house has its own mascot, its' own common room, dorm, dining table and Quidditch team. Don't ask me about Quidditch, I taught there for five years and never figured it out!"

"So, kinda like a frat or a sorority?" Bruce hazarded.

"Kinda." Willow agreed. "But they don't split the boys and girls – except for the dorms, of course, and the bathrooms! Well, each House has its own way of doing things and gets a different kind of person – like a frat again. Slytherin House goes for Purebloods, or nearly Purebloods, and also for cool-headed, sneaky, ruthless types."

She paused for a moment, then said. "Best way to explain is, when I was teaching there, I started to hold these little events on a Saturday night. Just an open invitation for senior students to come and hang out. In good weather, we'd go outside and barbecue, otherwise, we'd have a buffet. It was all real casual.

Hogwarts is a boarding school, and the kids have nowhere much to go weekends – no malls or anything, just the local village a couple times a term. So the kids hang out in the common rooms, mostly. I figured it would be good for them to mix with people outside their own Houses.

"Well, it kinda worked. Lots of Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs used to turn up every week. Some Ravenclaws as well, but they're the nerdy house, and a lot of them would rather study. But the Slytherins were different. Most of them used to come along just like the others, though they didn't mix as well, but there was one group!

"They came along to the first one, in a bunch. All from old Pureblood families like Draco. I'd told them casual, but they came in dress robes, like it was a formal. They all stood in a bunch, talking a little with each other, but not much, and looking real uncomfortable. So I went over to talk to them, draw them out a little, and found out that they'd turned up because they thought they had to! Soon as I told them it wasn't mandatory, they all left!

"Some of them came back other times, but they had a real hard time relaxing. One of them told me that these families are so proud of their heritage that they only socialise among themselves or with other Pureblood families from outside Britain. When they do, it's all formal dances and dinner parties -they never just hang, or do anything casual.

"I guess Draco was brought up that way, and rather than be awkward, or make it awkward for us, he just keeps to himself."

"You ask me," Bruce opined, "he doesn't need to worry. Once you get used to that dry, deadpan Brit humour, he's a real funny guy!"

"He's a real dangerous guy!" Rhodey stated. "Seeing him work was something else!"


	5. Chapter 5

**Professor Iye**

**Chapter Five**

Doug Ramsay was an early riser, he found the quiet of the morning more conducive to work. He knew that Rhodey, Clark and Bruce were also early risers, but that the first thing they would do was go for a run. The others he expected to rise rather later. As a result, he was more than a little surprised when Draco tapped on the open door of his workspace. Even more surprising was the fact that the Boss was wearing some kind of green and silver sweats, had a towel draped around his neck and looked just out of the shower.

"Am I disturbing you, Ramsay?" Draco asked.

Cypher shook his head. "No, sir. I've pretty much cracked the code, and I could use a break before I start transcribing. You been for a run, Boss?"

"Good heavens, no!" Draco shook his head. "However valuable it may be as a form of exercise, I find running to be impossibly tedious. I have been in the gymnasium, practising _t'ai chi'_ and callisthenics. I saw you in here, and given the early hour, did wonder if you had breakfasted yet?"

"I had a cereal bar and some coffee..." Cypher began, but Draco cut him short.

"Good grief, man!" He said with more emotion than Cypher had ever seen him show. "How can you expect to do a mornings' work on cardboard and caffeine? These modern muggle ideas will be the ruination of us all! Come with me, Ramsay, and be educated in the art of breakfast."

The meal was not what Cypher had expected. No bacon, egg or sausages. Instead there had been a generous helping of flavoursome smoked haddock, topped with a perfectly-poached egg and served with thinly-sliced wholemeal bread and butter. This was accompanied by several cups of strong tea and followed by toast and a thick, chunky preserve with a strong, bittersweet orange flavour.

"This is good." He noted. "What is it?"

"Frank Coopers' Vintage Oxford Marmalade." Draco told him. "An indispensable part of the English breakfast and one tradition that did not make it to the United States, I fear. Do help yourself.

"I had been meaning to have a talk with you, Ramsay. I know you are a mutant, and am somewhat curious as to that. There is a keen debate ongoing in my world as to whether or not mutants should be classed as muggles. I am unsure as to the details, but since we will be working together, I should really know more. What views, if any, do you have on the matter?"

Cypher shrugged. "It's kinda hard to say, Boss. Look, we know more about wizards than you do about mutants, right? As SHIELD agents we get briefings and training on this, There've always been some wizards who got mixed up in what we do, Dr Strange, for instance.

"So we know that magic, like mutation, is innate in some people - maybe genetic, maybe not – but beyond that, there are differences. Magic is like a generic thing, right? You've got the basic ability, but you have to be trained to use it, and you can do all kinds of things with it?"

"In a nutshell, yes." Draco responded. "Where untrained individuals, or self-taught ones, are found to have magic, the results are not always good. But yes, most trained wizards have some competence in all magical branches, though natural talent does cause one to specialise in particular fields such as Charms or Transfiguration. I take it that this is not the case with mutants?"

"Pretty much." Cypher told him. "A mutant is born with a particular quirk in their DNA. Now, a lot of the time it can be a handicap, a disability -in some cases it can even be lethal. But there's a small percentage of people whose mutation gives them an extra ability. It can be one specific ability or a range of related ones.

"You get Physical mutants whose bodies are different -like having wings or something. There are Ferals, who have enhanced senses and physical abilities. Metamorphs, who can change themselves in different ways, like shape-shifting or controlling their mass. Elementals can affect or control some aspect of the outside world, like weather or magnetism, Transducers metabolise one type of energy and change it into another, or store it to use in different ways. Then you get the Psionics, like me, people whose powers are mental.

"What that means is that no two mutants have exactly the same powers or abilities, so while you can be taught to use them better, you can't have a standard program of mutant education like wizards do."

"I see." Draco absorbed this for a moment, then. "Your ability, then, concerns language, as I understand the matter?"

Cypher nodded. "My brain seems to be wired up so that I can speak any language fluently just by listening to someone speak it for an hour or so. Same goes for reading. I'm fluent in at least two hundred languages.

"A side-effect is that I can also break most codes and cyphers. That can take longer, depending on the complexity of the code. It also lets me understand computer code and programming languages so that I can write high-level software and hack almost any system out there. The only codes I can't break are one-time pads, book codes and the old Enigma code from World War 2. I think that's because they're like, mechanical, rather than linguistic.

"And yeah, I was with the X-Men for a time, but it didn't work out. I mean, we were friends and everything, but I'm not a fighter, I was no good for field work in that kind of team. So when SHIELD asked me to join their Cyber-Security team, I did. I feel more useful doing this kind of work."

"Thank you, that makes matters much clearer for me." Draco said. "You remarked earlier that you had decoded the documents we obtained from LeNoir. When will you be able to provide a summary?"

"I'll be ready to brief about 10:30." Cypher said.

"Then I will see you then." Draco stated. "In the meantime, do give some thought to proper nutrition in the mornings, Ramsay. I would not wish our communications to be disrupted by your gastric rumblings by mid-morning!"

Cypher was as good as his word, being ready to brief when they all gathered. At Dracos' nod, he began.

"OK, people, this wasn't too bad of a job. The code was a simple substitution cypher, but the files themselves are written mostly in Haitian Creole, except for some of the more technical stuff.

"They do confirm our suspicions. LeNoir is, or was, working for HYDRA. He was a major hub in their entire Caribbean operation. So we got a list of moles and sleepers in both the muggle and wizard communities.

"But there was a problem with LeNoir. He couldn't, or wouldn't, give up his criminal activities. He made Haiti too hot to hold him, so HYDRA arranged for him to come here. He kept his nose clean for a few months, but then he started with the racketeering again.

"Well, HYDRA don't like that. They want their people to be law-abiding, it attracts less attention. That's why van Roek was sent. Far as I can make out, he's a HYDRA troubleshooter who works direct for the Red Skull. He was sent here to make sure LeNoir closed down his criminal activities, or make sure he was replaced by somebody more stable.

"Now the criminal stuff we can hand over to the locals. With LeNoir gone, his lieutenants are likely to start fighting over who takes over, so there's going to be some trouble. HYDRA will probably ship in somebody new to take over their operations.

"The HYDRA operations are the usual stuff, for the most part. Infiltration, subversion, support for right-wing movements, that kind of thing. But there is one big, ongoing thing that has me puzzled."

A map popped up onto the big plasma screen and Cypher turned to it.

"OK, LeNoir ran a HYDRA-owned shipping company, import-export. But a lot of the stuff he imported, he exported almost straight away. There's a lot of high-tech stuff: computers, sonar and radar parts, and what look like parts for some kind of reactor. But there was also a lot of weird stuff – well, I thought it was weird until Willow put me right. Willow?"

She nodded. "There were potion ingredients and magical items being shipped from all over. But what was strangest was that he was importing a lot of wand-quality wood and core materials."

"Whoah!" Bruce interrupted. "Wood I get, but what are these core materials?"

"Well, every wand has two parts." Willow told him. "The wooden part, and the core that's put into it. The wood can be almost anything, usually native to the country the wand was made in, but the core has to be part of something magical. So my wand, which is an English one, is Rowan wood with a dragon heartstring core."

"Mine," Gabrielle added, "is sycamore with a Veela 'air core."

"OK." Bruce nodded. "We'll talk about the technical side of this some other time. If there is a technical side."

"If LeNoir was importing these materials." Draco mused. "It means that there must be, somewhere, an unlicensed wand-maker working for HYDRA. I find that disturbing. Where were these materials being sent, Ramsay?"

"Through the Panama Canal to a consignee in Honolulu." Cypher replied. "But I don't think that's the actual destination. The stuff was all intended for someone they call 'Professor Iye'. Weird name – 'iye' is Japanese for 'no', if that means anything."

"Not to me." Draco looked around, but nobody else had anything to offer. "Well, many thanks and excellent work, Ramsay.

"Rhodes, will you contact the authorities in Honolulu and tell them what we have? It appears that may be our next stop. Mlle Delacourt, please speak to our contact on the White Council, and see if they have any information on this Professor Iye, whilst Ramsay continues his search of muggle sources.

"Dr Howser, how is your patient?"

"Fine." Doug reported. "Still kinda tired, but clear-headed. No permanent injuries."

"Good, good." Draco nodded. "I have some matters to attend to, but will you ask Thomas to join me for lunch at one o'clock?"

Dean Thomas was as direct as any Gryffindor could be, dropping into the chair Draco indicated and saying bluntly:

"Right, so how come Draco Malfoy, former school bully and not-quite-Death-Eater, currently a minor official in the Foreign Department, is leading a SHIELD Strike Team?"

Draco sighed as he passed Dean a cup of Darjeeling. "Life, as has been noted, is full of surprises. I do assure you, Thomas, that this was not part of my career plan. Help yourself to the sandwiches, this beef is excellent.

"Now before we proceed any further, I must ask you to keep any mention of my involvement out of your reports. You may credit Agent Rhodes as the team leader. My role is currently highly classified. I should in fact edit your memories, but I have doubts about the efficacy of the process. Since you are, for your sins, a Gryffindor, your word will be sufficient."

"And if I were a Slytherin?" Dean asked.

"I would Obliviate you without a second thought." Draco told him. "I am under no illusions about the House I was sorted into, Thomas. It is, after all, one reason why I am here. Now, do I have your word?"

"Absolutely." Dean averred. "All considerations of security aside, I'd never live it down if people knew I'd been saved by a Slytherin! Especially since that Slytherin is you, Malfoy!"

"Ah, the advantages of a reputation." Draco noted. "Now, Thomas, I assume Dr Howser has brought you up to speed?"

"More or less." Dean allowed. "I expect you want me to fill you in on my part in the business? Right then.

"Josiah Manahal knew that LeNoir had people working in the Ministry – even the Auror section – but he couldn't prove it. He doesn't – didn't - know about this HYDRA organisation except as a muggle group, he thought it was a local thing. So when I was sent over on secondment he roped me into his investigation. I did a lot of work, found some things out, and wrote some reports, which I gave to Josiah, including a list of names."

Draco nodded. "We have those, they were on Mr Manahals' laptop. They are commendably thorough, and confirmed by the documents we took from LeNoirs' basement."

"Good!" Dean went on. "Well, we were getting into a position to make some arrests, when out of the blue I got an Owl from this van Roek bloke. He told me he represented certain 'interests' who wanted LeNoir 'dealt with', and that he had information to share.

"Well, we checked into van Roeks' background, as you do, and it's pretty muddy, right? But Josiah and I thought there'd be no harm in talking to the bloke. So we arranged to meet at a muggle cafe, nice public place, no chance of any funny business. We were fencing, I was trying to find out what he knew and what he wanted for it, he was trying to work out what I knew and what I was prepared to give him. The waiter came and I ordered a coffee so as not to look odd. It arrived, I took a couple of mouthfuls, and everything went black. Then I woke up in that bloody cellar!"

Dean shook his head. "What I don't understand is how the coffee got a potion into it! I could see van Roeks' hands the whole time. There's no way he could've done it!"

"I doubt that he did." Draco told him. "The proprietor of the cafe, or even the waiter, may be HYDRA operatives. More likely, though, is that van Roek bribed the waiter. A small matter, for later consideration. What happened next?"

Dean shrugged. "Van Roek had gone off somewhere -to kill Josiah, it turned out – and I was left with LeNoir. He tried to interrogate me.

"It was weird. He made this little doll out of clay, with some of my blood in it. Then he started to stick needles in it. Wherever he stuck the needle, I got pain. Not as bad as a _cruciatus_, but not exactly comfortable, either.

"Funny thing is, he actually told me more than I told him! It was from him I heard about HYDRA, that they were active in our world. I also found out that he was working for somebody called 'the Professor'. He kept asking how much I knew about the 'Nautilus Project' and the 'ryu', whatever they are."

Draco frowned. "Again, the _Nautilus._" He mused. "Fascinating. A ryu, by the way, is a Japanese school of martial arts. I am a member of one in London."

Dean raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment. Instead he went on. "Well, when van Roek got back, he was well pissed off at LeNoir for being so rough with me. LeNoir had been telling me that when he'd finished the interrogation, he was going to turn me into a Zombie. But it seems van Roek isn't working for this Professor, but directly for someone called the Red Skull, who ranks higher. This Skull character had given van Roek standing orders that 'suitable people' were to be recruited, and he wanted to recruit me. He reckoned that torturing me might have put me off a bit – can't think why!

"Anyway, there were some right slanging matches – I could hear them through the door. LeNoir saying he was the Gauleiter, and in charge of everything in the Caribbean block, van Roek saying he was a Gruppenfuhrer and outranked him. There was a lot of talk about outside interests and compromised security. Seems LeNoir was doing things he shouldn't have been and van Roek had been sent to see he cleaned his act up.

"Then all Hell breaks loose, and the next thing I know, you're coming through the door! I'll admit, Malfoy, when I saw you, I thought HYDRA had sent their top man to deal with me!"

Draco allowed himself a pale smile. "I am flattered, Thomas. HYDRA is a dark, twisted organisation with an elitist, autocratic agenda, you realise? And there is an old muggle proverb that says 'set a thief to catch a thief'."

Dean nodded. "You're better equipped than most to unravel this thing, aren't you? Does Harry know you're doing this?"

"No comment." Draco told him.

"He put you up to it, then." Dean grinned. "Don't worry, my lips are sealed! Harry always was a clever bugger. Poor Ginny, I'll bet she doesn't get away with anything, since she married him!" He pulled out a card and handed it across the desk. "I'll keep quiet, obviously," he said, "but if you need me..."

"Understood." Draco said. "Now I have a few things to do at the Ministry, after which they may well need your assistance, Thomas. Stay here for now -there are people still looking for you, I believe, and not with friendly intent!"

They were stopped at the floor below Manahals' old office, and Aurors relieved Draco of his wand and Clark of his gun.

"Sorry." Ephraim Kodogo told them. "Mr St Clare, he the Acting Head now, and he put in new rules. By the way, Mr Malfoy, thanks for them tips you give me. I showed them to the Minister, and he give me the go-ahead."

"Well, that is good news." Draco replied. "I advise you to begin immediately, Mr Kodogo."

They were escorted up to the office floor by two Aurors and led down to St Clares' office. Clark and the two Aurors waited outside.

St Clare began without preamble. "What did you find out, Agent Malfoy?"

Draco began to pace around the room. "It seems there has been extensive penetration of both the Jamaican Government and the Ministry of Magic by an organisation known as HYDRA. This consists of a number of active moles and a slightly larger contingent of sleeper agents. The corruption, I am afraid, reaches very high."

"Have you informed anyone else?" St Clares' tone was anxious.

Draco turned to face the man, hands clasped behind his back. "I have not." He said. "I did think that, as the highest-ranking HYDRA agent in the Ministry, it would be strategically sound to gain your cooperation first."

"How?" St Clare asked simply.

Draco sighed. "When we were examining these offices, it would have been both logical and courteous to escort us yourself, or assign Mr Kodogo to do so. Instead, you not only assigned a junior Auror, but a specific one, signalled non-verbally from the far end of the room.

"You then left the building, by a rear entrance, for a brief period. You are not a smoker, according to your records, so I deduced that you were communicating with someone.

"The murder of Annabelle Trueblood was a senseless one, unless one reasons that it was a way to get us out of the office. Too late, as it turns out, since we had already secured the vital laptop, despite the Perception Charm you had placed on it. Mlle Delacourt is highly proficient in forensic magic and was able to identify the caster, and indeed, muggle forensics had your fingerprints on the device.

"At which point, by arranging a rather amateurish attack -one which was bound to fail against a trained SHIELD team – you attempted to misdirect us into the local muggle underworld. Furthermore, LeNoirs' men were deployed last night in a manner which showed they were expecting an attack. Only you had the time and the means to accomplish all this.

"To be fair, Mr Kodogo already had his suspicions of you, which he shared with me in private, along with observations of your aberrant behaviour."

St Clare gave a bark of contemptuous laughter. "Ephraim is a joke! A paranoid old man, half-way out of the door. When the Minister confirms my promotion – and he will – Ephraim will find himself retired within a week. He's no threat.

"Which leaves you, Agent Malfoy. My sources have told me a good deal about you. A bully in your childhood, an inept conspirator in your teens, a lifelong snob and a junior civil servant. I don't know who gave you this job, but clearly you are meant only to be a figurehead. You should have shared all this with your professional colleagues. This attempt to persuade me, wizard-to-wizard, is typically amateurish and doomed.

"It would be foolish to kill you, and unlike you, I am no fool. Instead, you'll just forget all of this!"

St Clare raised his wand. Draco fired from the hip, twice. The suppressed SHIELD weapon made a soft popping sound and St Clare was knocked back against the wall to slide down it, leaving a wide trail of blood. Hollow-point rounds are very efficient, if not tidy, and Draco had no need to check the body.

"You really should have had your people pat us down." He told the dead man. "A typically wizard mistake."

He went to the door and opened it. Clark was standing over two unconscious and handcuffed Aurors.

"All done, Kent?" Draco asked.

"Piece of cake, Boss." Clark told him. "St Clare?"

"No longer a problem." Draco said. "Let us go and see how Mr Kodogo has fared, shall we?"

There was in fact quite a mess downstairs, but Kodogo greeted Draco with a thumbs-up.

"All safe, Agent Malfoy!" He said, then came closer and spoke lower. "We done what you said, got the moles and left the sleepers."

"Excellent." Draco commended. "Observe the sleepers. HYDRA will no doubt activate at least some of them. Be ready to control the information they can pass back. I assume the muggle authorities have also acted?"

Kodogo nodded. "Your agent Rhodes was in charge there. But we can't question any of them. The ones we didn't knock out just died, like a Killing Curse."

Draco sighed. "I was afraid of this." He admitted. "Muggle HYDRA agents typically commit suicide to avoid capture or interrogation, usually with poison capsules kept in the mouth. I suspect that HYDRA wizards have a self-administered Azrael Geas to achieve the same end.

"The geas cannot be countered, so do not expect to be able to interrogate any of them.

"Well, many thanks for your assistance, Mr Kodogo. My colleagues and I will be leaving Jamaica shortly, but we will forward full reports to the relevant authorities."

As they left, Clark said. "Thought you didn't use guns, Boss?"

"Dislike should never be confused with incompetence, Kent." Draco told him. "One uses what is to hand. I knew that St Clare might very well confiscate our weapons, but he would never expect a Pureblood wizard to carry a firearm, so he did not order us searched."

At that point a beeping noise broke out in Dracos' jacket. He fumbled around for a moment, muttering about 'infernal devices', before producing his mobile phone.

"Malfoy." He said. "Ah, Commander McGarrett, thank you for coming back to us so quickly...You have? Good...No, keep the premises under observation, we will be with you as soon as possible...Goodbye."

Draco turned to Kent. "It seems our next port of call is Honolulu." He announced. "Call ahead and have Rhodes prepare the aircraft."


	6. Chapter 6

**Professor Iye**

**Chapter Six**

Steve McGarrett looked up as Danny Williams escorted their guests into the room. As a former intel and special ops person himself, he didn't quite have his team-mates aversion to dealing with 'alphabet agencies', but was beginning to acquire it. That said, SHIELD was not your run of the mill agency.

What did bother him was the notion of wizards. Though not a deeply religious man, Steve regarded himself as a Christian, unlike the more agnostic Danny, and found the idea that wizards existed vaguely troubling. The interview he had had a few hours ago with the respectably black-suited individual who had identified himself as an 'Auror' working with the Federal Bureau of Sorcery had been an uncomfortable one, if only because of the matter-of-fact way in which the man had delivered his brief.

Danny had been no help, merely pointing out that in a world full of mutants and meta-humans, wizards were almost ordinary. Kono, as a native Hawaiian, seemed to have no issues with the concept of magic, and Chin appeared to agree with her. Lou just shrugged -the shrug of a man who had seen just about everything and was beyond surprise.

But now the apparent leader of this unusual SHIELD team was approaching him with extended hand. As tall as Steve, but slimmer, blond hair tied back, thin face, cold grey eyes. Spoke like Danny's ex-wife, Rachel.

"Commander McGarrett? Draco Malfoy, pleased to meet you." The man said. "My team. Agents Rosenberg, Delacourt, Rhodes, Wayne, Kent, Ramsay and Dr Howser. Thank you for agreeing to work with us on this matter."

Steve returned the handshake, which was wiry and powerful, with the hardened skin of a karate practitioner.

"No problem, Agent Malfoy." He replied. "You've met Sergeant Danny Williams. These are Captain Lou Grover, Lieutenant Chin Ho Kelly and Officer Kono Kalakaua. I'm just wondering why you asked to work with Five-0 rather than the local SHIELD office?"

"Primarily because it is a local matter." Draco replied. "As you are doubtless aware, Commander, SHIELDs' remit is global, and as such, our offices have only a limited insight into local conditions. This unit operates rather outside normal SHIELD structures, and requires more detailed knowledge. Your unit was recommended to us as a highly efficient and indeed elite group, hence the request."

"Flattery will get you everywhere." Kono commented.

"OK." Steve said. "Well, the company you had us look into seems to be pretty legit at first glance, but then we dug a little deeper. Chin?"

Chin stepped up to the display table and began manipulating images.

"We got into the financials." He said. "On the surface, Murchison Trading looks like a medium-sized shipping company, importing and exporting a range of goods into and out of the island. But according to the manifests, a whole lot of stuff comes in and goes straight out again. Weird stuff."

"Let me guess." Cypher put in. "High-tech parts and equipment, and unusual plant and animal products?"

"That's right." Chin told him. "Now all of that gets shipped to one destination. A company called Nautilus Marine Salvage that supposedly operates off of a small island group in the Pacific a couple hours flight from here.

"Thing is, Nautilus Marine Salvage, far as we can figure out, is just a Post Office box in LA. But the payments come from Black Cross Financials, a company that's on the Homeland Security watchlist. They're suspected of bankrolling several right-wing groups and militias."

Cypher nodded. "They're on SHIELDs' radar, too. A lot of those groups get backing from HYDRA, usually through third parties. Black Cross might be one of those, or a HYDRA front."

"Trouble is," Chin went on, "we don't really have any idea of where the stuff is shipped to. There are several islands in the group, but the manifests we can see don't give a specific one.

"Another thing is, Murchisons' staff all have ex-military backgrounds, all with dishonourable discharges. They get paid well, way more than the companys' books allow for."

"I would hazard a guess." Draco said. "That their role has less to do with loading and unloading, than with security."

"That's what I figured." Steve told him. "HPD have the Murchison building under surveillance, and we've got the layout from the city Planning Office. We can go in any time."

"Excellent!" Draco approved. "I begin to feel that time is of the essence.

"Do you have map co-ordinates for the island group you mentioned? Good. Agent Wayne, you and Agent Ramsay will take the Jumper out there immediately and find out what you can. Please exercise all due caution and discretion.

"Commander McGarrett, I believe we have plans to make."

They got down to it.

Danny and Rhodey were covering the back. Danny was grumbling; Rhodey got the feeling he did that a lot.

"It's not that Steve's a bad cop." He was saying. "More like he's not really a cop at all. Behind the badge, he's still a Navy SEAL. He likes blowing things up and running in shooting, doing crazy stuff. Now me, I'm a cop, and there's a way to do things, right? You ask questions, you knock on doors, you talk to CIs – police work, detective work. Then when you know you've got your guy, you go to a judge, get a warrant, and get backup before you go in. I know Five-0 has that 'full means and immunity' thing, but sometimes you still gotta go by the book, right?"

"If you say so." Rhodey allowed. "Me, I'm a military guy myself, so I know where McGarrett's coming from. Still, I understand you as well, I'm finding out what it's like to work for somebody from a different world. My boss is a wizard, remember!"

"Yeah, I was wondering about that." Danny said. "How does that work? I mean, what's he like?"

Rhodey shrugged. "He's British, so he's got that reserve, you know? Like an American will tell you all about themselves pretty quick, but the Brits kinda hold back? I mean, I know from his files the Boss is married and has a kid, but he's never spoken about them yet. Then he's a genuine aristocrat – family goes back to the Norman Conquest in 1066 – and that brings a lot of baggage with it, I guess. He talked to me about it once, and it seems to be all duty and responsibility.

"So he's got all that before the wizard thing even kicks in! So then he has troubles with all kinds of tech – things we take for granted, like computers and cellphones. Part of it is that he just never grew up with them like we did, but some of it is that tech and magic can interfere with each other somehow. Then there's things he doesn't know that you think he should, like brands of car, or TV shows, or movies – he never heard of Al Pacino, for instance, or Clint Eastwood.

"He gives orders like he's asking you a favour, he looks like a breeze would snap him in two, and he gives the impression he's got no energy at all. But I saw him in action in Jamaica, and man, I would not want to mess with him!"

There was a sudden loud _boom _from out front, followed by the familiar racket of a firefight.

"That's our cue!" Danny said.

Draco was feeling a little oppressed by the SHIELD Tactical outfit he was wearing. Unlike the infiltration suit he had worn previously, the torso area of this one had an added layer of Kevlar and a high-impact ceramic shell, designed to stop anything short of a rocket. The helmet had also restricted his vision and hearing, until he had remembered to switch on the micro-sensor array. Still, he supposed, he would become accustomed to it. He caught Steve giving him an odd look and sighed to himself.

"I suppose, Commander, like Agent Rhodes you are concerned that I appear unarmed?" He asked.

Steve shook his head. "Not so much. I mean, I can see you have a sidearm." He said. "But I am kinda wondering what you can do with that wand that makes a rifle unnecessary."

"We shall see shortly," Draco said, "given that our people are in position and there is no further cause for delay. Shall we proceed?"

"Give the word." Steve told him.

"Consider it given." Draco replied, then through the comlink. "Mlle Delacourt, lose that door, would you?"

Gabrielles' reductor hex blew the large warehouse doors off their hinges and into the building proper, causing eyes to bug among the Five-0 team. Then they were moving, fast and low, using the shock.

The warehouse 'staff' responded admirably quickly, but were clearly taken by surprise as their initial shots went wild, allowing the attackers to find cover. Before the defenders could adequately find their own, Danny and Rhodey burst in through the back and threw them into further confusion.

A couple of guys had holed up behind some crates and were giving Steve trouble. Draco gestured with his wand and the crates vanished into thin air. Steve, who after Gabrielle's spectacular contribution had been ready for anything, took one down straight away, seeing the other struck by a streak of vivid green light from Dracos' wand. The man went down without a sound and Steves' instincts told him he would never get up again.

Steve was used to the chaos of a firefight, but the added dimension of streaks of coloured light from wands, heavy objects flying through the air, solid material vanishing or exploding violently and ropes and chains apparently coming alive to tangle themselves around nearby enemies gave this one an element of scariness he hadn't experienced in a long time!

It rapidly became clear to Draco that they were not dealing with HYDRA troops here, just well-paid and professional mercenaries. Professional enough to know they were out-gunned and out-manoeuvred, but not well-paid enough to relish a fight to the death against the odds. A few were already throwing down their weapons, more were looking for a way out.

Two men made a run for a pickup truck that was parked facing the doorway. One got in, the other fell back, winged by a blast from Chins' shotgun. The man in the truck gunned the engine, then looked up in surprise to see Clark standing directly in front of the vehicle. Clark grabbed the front fender and flipped the truck onto its roof with a grunt.

"Don't," Chin commented, "tell me that was a trick of leverage!"

"OK." Clark grinned. "I won't. Would you believe the Mak'tar Chant of Strength?"

"Works for me." Chin allowed.

Steve and Draco had made their way up onto the catwalk to approach the glass walled office booth, but were forced to seek cover as two men opened fire from inside with automatic weapons.

"Someone else in there." Draco said. "At the desk. Probably disposing of papers and erasing the computer files."

Steve noted that Draco had dropped the elaborate phraseology he normally used for a more terse, informative style. Smart.

"He's gonna have a problem." Steve replied. "I had my people cut the power to this place just as we went in. He might burn some papers, but he won't be able to do anything with the computers."

"Good." Draco remarked. Then he took a tear-gas grenade from his belt, pulled the pin, tossed it into the air and Levitated it through the broken glass into the office, where it duly emitted clouds of choking vapour. As a further refinement, Draco set a shimmering barrier all around the booth, so that the frantic glass-smashing that took place was no help to the occupants at all.

"Neat." Steve commented.

"Old school trick." Draco told him. "We used to do it with dungbombs."

"Nice school you went to." Steve replied.

"We had our little ways." Draco admitted. "All part of preparing us for adult life, you might say.

"Our friends in there seem to be thoroughly demoralised. Shall we?"

Then there was just the cleaning up to do.

"Seems Murchison Trading wasn't as legit as we thought it was." Kono was saying. "When HPD searched the warehouse we found several shipments that weren't on the books. Military-grade weapons, for one thing."

"Do we know who they were for?" Willow asked.

"Far as we can tell, they were going to LA." Lou told her. "But after that, we can't say until we've investigated further."

"That, along with the other stuff we found," Kono went on, "confirms that the company isn't a HYDRA front."

"According to Murchison himself, they just took over the shipments from LeNoir and sent them on." Steve put in. "He had no idea he was working for HYDRA, and he got pretty scared when I told him."

"Very well." Draco said. "Then we are confirmed of the destination of the items we are specifically interested in, and have provided you, Commander, with several leads to criminal enterprises both inside and outside these islands. Altogether a very satisfactory day's work, if I may say so.

"Now I am informed that the rest of my team are on their way back from the islands they were visiting. We will need to debrief them, as well as look at other information we have recently received. With your permission, Commander, we will spend the night here and depart in the morning?"

"Fine by me." Steve said. "But it's our friend Kamekonas' birthday today, and he's having a barbecue. He cooks the best shrimp on the island, and he said you guys were welcome to come along, if you like."

"Most hospitable, Commander." Draco replied. "I certainly have no objection if my team join you. I am afraid that I..."

"It'd be rude not to come along, Draco." Willow told him firmly.

"Yeah, Boss. All work and no play, huh?" Rhodey chimed in.

Draco looked around and saw uncompromising faces everywhere. Trapped. He sighed and shrugged. "Very well, then, since you all insist. Shrimp, you say? I believe I have a bottle or two of a passable Marsanne somewhere. It would be a shame, if Mr Kamekona is as good a cook as you say, to accompany his food with the bodiless brew that Americans are pleased to call beer!"

"What's wrong with American beer?" Danny wanted to know.

"I will also bring along some bottles of Theakstons' Old Peculier." Draco replied. "Which I believe will answer that question to your entire satisfaction."

As the team left, Kono gave a soft giggle. "I love the way he talks!" She said. "I suppose you're used to it, Danny, your ex being a Brit as well?"

Danny shrugged. "Kinda runs in the family." He said. "Grandma Amy and Grandpa Rory were Brits -even though they lived in New York – and so is Aunt River."

Bruce and Cypher had needed very little time to gather all the intel available.

"There are six islands in the group." Bruce told them all. "Two of them are just coral reefs with a lagoon in the middle. Three of the others have villages on them, except they're more like camps. Seems the fishermen go out there at the right season and use the islands as a base until their holds are full. Used to be, they lived there all year round, but since they got refrigerated holds, they moved to the bigger islands.

"But the sixth island is much bigger than the others – looked volcanic to me -and the fishermen won't go near it. Cypher had a long talk with them."

Cypher nodded. "They had all kinds of legends, of course. Some of them were real old, mostly about the Old Ones who come out of the sea and want to mate with humans in exchange for gold and good fishing. That one's pretty common in these seas, part of what some anthropologists call the 'Cthulhu Cycle' of myths and legends. It even got as far as New England, once, town called Innsmouth.

"But what interested me was the more recent ones. The guys told me they'd always avoided the big island because some of them had seen monsters there. There's only one cove you can land a boat in, and they say the last boat to land there lost three of the crew when they were attacked by a giant crab.

"They used to fish around there, though, until about two years ago. Then a couple boats went missing. They found some survivors who swore they'd been attacked by a sea-monster. About the same time, some oil company sent a surveyor out there. He went to look over the island in a chopper, trying to find somewhere to land. Last thing they heard was a mayday call -nothing was ever found. But some guys out in a boat say they saw something. Said the chopper was attacked by a dragon! That bit they did not tell the authorities. Oil company gave it up as a bad job."

"A dragon and a sea monster?" Clark commented. "Not sure I like those odds, Boss!"

"They are not necessarily two separate things." Gabrielle told him. "There are several dragon species which are as at 'ome in the water as they are in the air."

"Well, anyway, I got in touch with someone in Japan." Cypher said. "Shiro Yoshida used to be an X-Man, back in the day, but now he's in charge of Monster Island. He says everyone -or everything – there is accounted for, so we're not gonna be up against Godzilla or Ghidrah!"

"King Ghidorah, however, is not the only dragon on Earth." Draco pointed out. "And many of the native species are quite formidable, if less spectacular. Neither, for that matter, is Gojira the only sea monster, though certainly one of the most dangerous. Nevertheless, forewarned is forearmed.

"Mlle Delacourt, has our contact at the White Council been able to shed any light on the matter of Professor Iye?"

"_Mais oui_." Gabrielle said. "To begin with, that is not 'is real name, but a nickname which 'e 'as chosen to make a _nom de guerre_. Tokugawa Hiro was born in Edo in 1603, the same year 'is kinsman Tokugawa Ieyasu became the first of the Tokugawa Shoguns. 'E is a Pureblood wizard from a samurai clan -such things are not uncommon in Japan, part of the Tokugawa clan 'ad always been wizards, as 'ad many branches of the noble families. Hiro attended Mahoutokoro – the Japanese school of wizardry - from 1614.

"In those days, Mahoutokoro was as stratified as the rest of Japanese society, with those wizards and witches 'oo came from Samurai families educated very differently from those of the peasant or merchant classes. The lower classes were not permitted to learn Defence Against the Dark Arts, or any kind of combat magic, on pain of death. Wizards of noble family were also taught the things Samurai should know: sword-fighting, riding, archery, strategy, painting, flower-arranging, calligraphy and the _cha-no-yu_ ceremony. Duelling was encouraged, and formed part of the examination. Samurai students who dishonoured themselves or the school could be, and often were, ordered to commit _seppuku. _On the other 'and, they 'ad the right to kill any student of lower class 'oo insulted or disobeyed them on the spot."

"Education meant something in those days." Draco remarked drily.

"Quite." Gabrielle acknowledged. "Hiro was an exceptional student, to the extent that, after graduation, 'e was asked to stay as a teacher. 'E did so, but also continued certain magical researches. 'E is one of the three people to 'ave developed the Elixir of Life."

"Three?" Draco asked. "I have heard of Nicholas Flamel, of course, but who is the third?"

Surprisingly, it was Bruce who replied. "You wouldn't have, Boss, he was a muggle. A Chinese scientist called Dr Fu Manchu. We don't know whether his 'Formula Elixir Vitae' was the same one Flamel found. Actually, we kinda doubt it, because he needed blood from a family member to make it work. Even went so far as to clone his own son to ensure his supply. He gave the British a lot of trouble for decades, but he's dead now -ran out of Elixir when his real son killed his clone one. Far as we know, his daughter, Fah Loh Suee, is still alive, but we don't know how much of the formula she has."

"The human attitude to immortality is a contradictory one." Draco mused. "There are those who crave it, and others who regard it as a curse. I take it, then, that the Elixir is why the Professor is still with us?"

"_Oui_." Gabrielle went on. "'E continued teaching at Mahoutokoro, gathering around 'imself a coterie of students and graduates 'oo all stood firmly for tradition, and resisted anything they saw as a weakening or corruption of the old ways.

"It is no surprise, therefore, that Hiro was violently opposed to the Meiji Restoration of 1868. The years following this saw the abolition of the Samurai, and the building of a non-feudal, Western-style society in Japan. Hiro was vocal in 'is opposition to these changes, and it is from this period that 'e gained the nickname _iye_ – Professor No. The final straw came in 1873, when the Meiji Government introduced universal conscription – thus removing from the Samurai the exclusive right to bear arms. The newly-formed Japanese Ministry of Magic insisted that Mahoutokoro extend its' full curriculum to all students, regardless of class. When the 'Eadmaster agreed to this, Iye demanded that 'e commit _seppuku_ for dishonouring all wizard Samurai. When the 'Ead refused, Iye killed him and fled.

"Iye was next 'eard of as one of the ringleaders of the Satsuma Rebellion of 1877, but disappeared when it was defeated. Since then, there 'ave been only rumours. We know that a Japanese officer in HYDRA uniform was seen at times with the Red Skull during the Second World War, and that attempts were made to involve Japanese wizards in that war. It may 'ave been Hiro, but we do not know for sure."

"So in other words," Draco concluded, "whatever he's up to, he's had a long time to plan it.

"Well, it may surprise you all to know that I have also been doing some research. It has been clear for some time that there is a connection between whatever the Professor Iye is planning, and the career of Prince Dakkar, or Captain Nemo.

"We know that Nemos' advanced submarine, the _Nautilus_ was believed to have been lost in a maelstrom in the early 1868, as reported by Professor Arronax. We also know that Captain Cyrus Smith, of the US Army, reported that Nemo was alive in 1873, when he launched a second _Nautilus_ from an island in the Pacific. Finally, secret files released to UNIT some years ago reveal that Nemo and his crew were of assistance in highly secret mission in 1899 – one that delayed the outbreak of war in Europe for over a decade.

"Nemo himself is known to have died in 1909, destroying himself and the _Nautilus II_ rather than have it captured by the German Navy. What is less well-known is that the first Nautilus was left submerged under the island which Nemo used as a base. Captain Smith never revealed the exact location of the island, partly because he was never sure of it, and partly because he had promised Nemo. The general supposition is that it is close to New Zealand, but I have my doubts that Smith and his crew could have made or survived so long a trip in a muggle balloon."

"Ah, crap!" Bruce said. "You have to be right, Boss! The _Nautilus_ is a kinda Holy Grail for submarine designers. There's things Nemos' boat could do that out biggest and best nuclear boats can't. I mean, apart from the fact that his reactor seems to have been more safe and stable than anything that's been built since, apart from Starks' Arc reactor.

"HYDRA wants the _Nautilus, _and they've sent Iye to get it for them!"

"My thoughts exactly, Wayne. In return, of course, the Professor gets a remote island upon which to set up his own school of wizardry, to train wizards for HYDRA. A clever economy of effort.

"But this remains only a theory as yet, ladies and gentlemen. Tomorrow, we shall set out with the intention of proving it or otherwise.

"In the meantime, I believe we have been promised shrimp!"


	7. Chapter 7

**Professor Iye**

**Chapter Seven**

Rhodey enjoyed flying the Jumper. A fighter pilot by training and inclination, he found the smaller, faster, more responsive plane a relief from the relatively ponderous 'bus'. It helped that his passenger also seemed comfortable with this kind of flight. Another revelation about the Boss.

Last night had been the same. Draco had clearly felt out of place among the convivial group, but had made an effort. His instinctive courtesy and dry humour had served him well enough to at least survive the evening. _He can do the people thing_, Rhodey mused, _but it ain't natural or easy for him. _Of course, Dracos' stock had received a considerable boost from his contribution to the hospitality. Rhodey was not a wine man, but he gathered from Gabbi and Bruce that the Marsanne the Boss had provided was as good as such things got. For himself, Rhodey had been mightily impressed with the rich, complex flavours of the dark English beer Draco had also brought -and he wasn't the only one.

Now, though, it was time to get his head back in the job. They were a few miles out from Iye's island, so Rhodey dropped the jumper to subsonic and went into Stealth mode. Silent and invisible, they quartered over the island, finding it ruggedly mountainous and heavily forested, apart from one deep cove on the Northern coast. At the centre, however...

"That looks like an active volcano." He told Draco.

"It does." Draco agreed. "Which is strange, because the satellite imagery SHIELD provided indicates no such thing. We should conclude, Rhodes, that this is some kind of illusion, either a hologram or a spell.

"Am I right in thinking that, given its VTOL capacity, our large aircraft could comfortably land in that caldera?"

"Easy." Rhodey stated. "You want to change plans and go for a full assault, Boss?"

"Not at this juncture." Draco replied. "That disguise may conceal heavy defences of one sort or another. It would be best if I can disable them before you attempt to land.

"Ah! There!"

Rhodeys' jaw dropped. A real, live dragon had just emerged from the apparently lava-filled caldera and set off on what appeared to be a patrol.

Draco focussed the Jumpers' video camera on the beast. "Scarlet, smooth-scaled, yellow spikes around the face." He noted. "Snub snout, large eyes, about 20-25 feet overall. Chinese Fireball.

"That makes sense. Fireballs are not the most powerful of dragons, but are among the most intelligent. Intelligent enough to be trained, given the proper techniques and a young enough hatchling. Powerful and dangerous enough to see off civilian aircraft and scare fishermen, but should be no match for the weaponry of our large aircraft."

Draco admitted to himself, if not to Rhodey, that he had been concerned. Islands such as this were known to be the favoured dens of dormant _daikaiju, _ the giant monsters that had so frequently plagued Japan in particular and which many believed to the the products of Kree genetic engineering, designed to keep Earth from growing too powerful by causing regular disruption to human civilisation.

The Japanese authorities had corralled a number of them on Monster Island, behind sophisticated technological and magical barriers. During the Dalek Invasion of 2008, they had been released in a last-ditch attempt to ward off complete Dalek domination of Japan. True to previous form, the mighty Gojira and his allies Anguirus and Rodan had made straight for the mainland to join forces with Mothra -summoned from her own sacred island. King Ghidorah -a three-headed dragon of non-terrestrial origin – clearly had knowledge of the Daleks, because instead of fleeing, he too had attacked them. He had, however, declined to co-operate with his fellow monsters and despite doing a great deal of damage, had eventually been overwhelmed by numbers and fallen into the sea, apparently dead. But his body had never been found, and his regenerative capacities were unknown. Had the dragon of local legend turned out to be Ghidorah, nothing less than a full UNIT Strike-Force would have been required.

The Chinese dragon had meanwhile set off for the opposite end of the island, clearly on a pre-set route.

"Time for me to go!" Draco announced. "Return to the large plane, Rhodes, and await my signal."

"You sure you want to do this, Boss? Alone?" Rhodey asked.

"What? Let someone else have all the fun?" Draco asked. "I rather think not, Rhodes! That said, I would appreciate a prompt response when I call!"

"Prompt enough to make your head swim!" Rhodey promised. "You really don't want a parachute?"

Draco had moved to stand on the belly hatch, broom in hand. "My dear Rhodes, having spent a hugely self-indulgent amount of money on a Firebolt X, it would be an insult to my bank balance to use a parachute! In your own time, Rhodes."

"OK, Boss. Three, two, one, mark!"

The hatch opened and Draco dropped out of sight. Rhodey closed the hatch and checked the belly camera. Draco had casually swung himself astride the broom as he dropped, and was now descending in a tight, fast spiral that made Rhodey feel faintly sick to watch.

He sighed, forcing himself to recall that he was an XO, not a baby-sitter, and that the Boss could handle himself. Then he swung the plane away and headed back to the rendezvous.

Draco got himself into the canopy of the forest, then played slalom among the trees for about a mile. He was not quite the flier Harry Potter was, but he'd been a Seeker, and was no slouch on a broom. He spotted a broad branch and landed gently. Then he shrank the broom down to about an inch long and tucked it safely into his boot. Time for some climbing!

Before Harry 'took him in hand', Draco had never really bothered about physical fitness. Despite their wealth, the Malfoys had followed a rather Spartan lifestyle, eating well but not excessively, relying on an elegant sufficiency of very good food as opposed to larger amounts of lesser quality. As a result, Draco had never run to fat, unlike Crabbe and Goyle. However, the gruelling regime to which Harry had subjected him had hardened his slender frame so that at the age of 35, he was in better physical condition than he had ever been.

He made the descent without trouble, then oriented himself and set off toward the volcano – that was where the main headquarters was likely to be, given the attempts made to warn people off it. This was the tricky part. He had to try hard enough to be convincing, but not so hard as to defeat the object. Avoiding the obvious snares and surveillance – both technological and magical – he nonetheless managed to, apparently accidentally, trigger a few of the subtler ones. By the time he had reached the rugged lower slopes of the volcano, they were after him, he noted. Making only slightly more noise than a herd of drunken elephants, in Dracos' opinion.

He let them catch almost up to him, before starting a running fight that roamed across, rather than further up, the slope. He didn't want to give them a reason for shooting to kill. For the same reason, he steered clear of the Killing Curse himself, instead unloosing a variety of the more entertaining hexes he had learned as a schoolboy. Eventually, he let them corner him in a clump of bushes with his back to a ravine. After a few preparations, he bounded out, levelling his wand, into a fusillade of warning shots that sent him diving to the side, cursing loudly as his wand slipped from his hand and skittered over the edge of the ravine.

He rolled over and pulled his SHIELD sidearm, sending an incendiary round into the bushes close to where he knew his hunters to be. That had the effect he wanted, as he felt the downdraught of great wings and smelled the musk and sulphur odour inseparable from dragonkind.

"That's enough!" Somebody yelled. "Throw down your weapon or get fried!"

They took his gun, his belt with clips and grenades, and the obvious comm unit. They patted him down and passed a Secrecy Sensor over him. Then they cuffed his hands in front of him and led him – without undue roughness – up a defile where a clump of bushes proved to be a holographic cover for a steel door. A short corridor led to a lift which descended for some distance before opening into some kind of control room.

This room was full of men and women in HYDRA uniforms, working diligently at panels and keyboards. There were monitors around the room, with differing views. One showed the dragon on its leisurely patrol. Another showed a room like a _dojo_ in which a number of black-clad wizards appeared to be practising _katas _with wands. At least three of them, however, showed differing views of the same room. A wet dock in which floated, surrounded by equipment and technicians, a shape familiar to Draco from Professor Arronaxs' sketches. The _Nautilus_.

Dracos' main interest, however, was in the middle-aged Japanese gentleman seated in an elevated control chair in the centre of the room. He was wearing a formal kimono in red and white and was gazing at Draco out of dark, unreadable eyes. His expression was serene, but the lines of the face itself were harsh and bitter. He wore his hair in a traditional samurai coiffure, and though there was a wand in his right hand, Draco noted that he kept a _katana_ in a stand by his chair, close enough to reach.

The leader of Dracos' captors stepped forward. "We have him, Professor. He's SHIELD, no doubt abut it. Uniform, weapons, all SHIELD, including one of those new multi-ammo guns. He's a wizard as well, he had a wand. It went into a ravine, but I've got men looking for it."

The man addressed as 'Professor' nodded.

"Good work, Sturmfuhrer." He said. His voice was harsh, guttural and as he moved, Draco noted heavy scarring across his throat. A past encounter, perhaps? Clearly the man was not invincible. He turned to Draco again.

"Your name?" He asked.

"Draco Malfoy," was the reply, "Agent of SHIELD. If I don't check in soon, my team will come after me, you realise."

The Professor shook his head. "I think not, Malfoy-san. The only SHIELD agent allowed to operate on her own is the Black Widow. All others must work in a team of at least two. Whatever you are doing here, it is not an authorised SHIELD operation, and you will have no back-up.

"But I am remiss. I am Tokugawa Hiro, better known as Professor Iye, and no doubt you have sought me out for some foolish vendetta of your own."

Draco shrugged. "Sorry, old chap, never heard of you." He said. "I was looking for a fellow called Piet van Roek. Seen him?"

If Iye was surprised, he didn't show it, merely nodding. "So, a vendetta nonetheless, though not addressed to me. Gruppenfuhrer van Roek was here recently, but has returned to HYDRA base. Was it you, Malfoy-san, who inflicted those scars on him?"

"Might have been." Draco allowed. "Last I saw of him, he was bleeding like a stuck pig, just before he ran for it."

"_Ah so desu ka?_" Iye replied. "Fascinating. Did you know, Malfoy-san, that scars from a Sectumsempra curse can usually be removed with dittany?"

Draco nodded. He had suffered such injuries himself, and been healed of them.

"It may interest you to know, then," Iye continued, "that no potion or charm can remove or hide the scars you inflicted upon van Roek. He is now a marked man to his dying day. Which means, Malfoy-san, that you either have a very particular wand, or are very skilled in the so-called Dark Arts.

"Your wand we will find, in due course. I may add it to my collection. Your skills might well be useful to HYDRA, but I have now recalled your name. I would hesitate to recruit a scion of such a noted family of turncoats to the HYDRA cause."

Iye rose from his chair, slipped his wand into his sash, and picked up his _katana_. "Bring him." He told the guards. They went along a corridor that seemed to curve round the outside of the base – all the doors, Draco noted, were on the inner curve of the corridor. They paused at one marked 'Armoury', where the leader of the guards typed a code into the door to open it. Beyond it, Draco caught a glimpse of a large room with two or three technicians, a couple of workbenches, and racks of weapons. He saw his weapons and equipment placed on the nearest bench.

A few doors further along, they came to one which was slightly sturdier and apparently airtight, judging from the hiss it made on opening. Inside was a large, circular chamber that extended at least four storeys down. The door opened onto a circular catwalk that ran round the room. In front of them a short walkway extended over the void, while above the walkway was a gantry along which ran a crane arrangement from which a large hook hung by a metal chain. The air was full of the whoosh of fans and a peculiar sharp odour Draco recognised. At the bottom of the chamber was a pool, some twenty feet deep, of a colourless, slightly oily liquid.

"Concentrated sulphuric acid." Iye supplied, confirming Dracos' suspicions. "We use it in various chemical processes. You will note those extractor fans, Malfoy-san. They draw out the bulk of the vapour to be condensed and cycled back into the storage tank. Waste not, want not. Also, without them, this room would be uninhabitable, of course.

"The acid is also a convenient and instructive method of disposal for unwanted individuals such as yourself. In a moment, you will be suspended from that hook, and slowly lowered into the acid. There will be several interesting aspects to the process. How well, and for how long, will your SHIELD gear protect you against the acid, for instance? Will the pain and shock of having your lower limbs eaten away kill you before you are deep enough into the pool for the fumes to finally overcome you?"

Iye put his head on one side and considered Draco. "Your family is considered a noble one, Malfoy-san. Had you been Japanese, I would have offered you the option of _seppuku, _but I understand the English do not consider such a death a noble one. I will, however, be interested to observe if your nations' reputation for stoicism in the face of death is deserved.

"Put him on the hook."

The guards looped the handcuffs over the hook, then bound Draco's legs and began to winch him out over the pool. He noted that he was only a couple of feet from the end of the walkway. Iye was still speaking.

"My men and I have much work to do, Malfoy-san, so you will be assured of privacy. There is no escape, so your demise will be recorded, but not monitored. I will study your manner of dying later, in private."

The crane began to lower Draco slowly toward the pool. For forms' sake, he called, "I suppose you expect me to talk, now?"

"No, Malfoy-san," replied Iye, "I expect you to die."

They waited until he was too far below the walkway to swing himself back onto it, then left. Draco gave them a few more minutes to clear the area, then grasped the hook firmly and pulled himself up. He pressed the side of his face to the handcuffs and concentrated. After a moment, they sprang open and dropped into the acid. Draco swarmed up the chain hand over hand and swung himself onto the platform, where he promptly fell down. He didn't need his legs to climb the chain, but standing or walking without them would be awkward!

He probed with his tongue up into the crevice between gum and cheek, finding the small sliver and carefully dislodging it so he could spit it into his hand. He murmured a word over it, and his wand sprang back to full size. He grinned – they could search that ravine till Doomsday and all they would find would be a rather straighter, blacker stick of wood than usual. Wand in hand, the leg bonds were no problem. Draco sat up and twisted a boot-heel. It was, of course, hollow and contained two of the black ceramic _suriken_.

He approached the door, looking through the glass observation panel and casting a Freezing Hex on the CCTV camera opposite. It would now show the same image until the Hex was removed. Draco slipped out into the corridor and made for the Armoury, freezing cameras as he went. Though he had noted the code the guard had used to open the door, he had an inkling that such things might be logged, so he used _alohomora _instead. Slipping inside, he took down the three technicians quickly and quietly, and reclaimed his muggle weapons.

Now things ventured into an area Draco was not wholly comfortable with. Sitting down at the supervisors' station, he noted with relief that the man was still logged in and began to access files before the machine could lock itself.

Harry had done his best, as had the SHIELD trainers, but Draco was never going to be a computer nerd. It took him a few false starts to locate the information he wanted. Fortunately, even HYDRA used Windows and the Armoury supervisor had clearly been a man of rank. Draco was able to locate the information he needed.

He took out the SHIELD communicator and pulled the back off it. Inside was a magic mirror. Not one of the commercial ones tied to a wizard network, but an old-fashioned one-to-one mirror. One that could not be jammed or eavesdropped or even detected in use.

"Willow Rosenberg." He said clearly. A moment later, Willow was looking at him anxiously out of the glass.

"You OK, Boss?" She asked. "We were getting a little worried."

"So far, so good." Draco told her. "But events march. Now, listen very carefully, I shall say this only once."

Some twenty minutes of cautious movement later, Draco crouched, covered by a Disillusionment Charm, at the entrance to a middle-sized room. Opposite him was a door, a wooden door studded with iron nails. On the computer schematics of the base, this door was shown as the only entrance to a large, subterranean area, unmapped and flagged as "No Access to Muggle Personnel".

This, Draco guessed, was the location of Iye's wizard _ryu_. There were things he needed to determine, but his immediate problem was the guards stationed at the door.

They were not HYDRA troopers. One was clearly Japanese, but the other had a Slavic cast of face. Both, however, wore red and white kimonos similar to, but less elaborate than, the one Iye wore. The Japanese wore his hair samurai-style, the other had his cropped short. Neither had a sword, but both had wands tucked into their sashes.

_Graduate students, then_. Draco thought. At this point, he supposed, a Gryffindor would have darted out and engaged both of them in a wizard duel. Draco was not so foolish, and he was on the clock, so to speak.

He took out the _suriken_ and depressed the centres of the stars. Inside each, a small reservoir broke open, allowing a potent neurotoxin to seep along capillaries to the points. With a deft double flick, Draco sent the star-darts spinning through the air to slam into the chests of the guards. They barely had time to register surprise and pain before the fast-acting poison killed them.

Draco stepped out into the chamber, faced the door, and tried to apparate beyond it. He was blocked, not violently, but firmly. He recognised the charm. It was one that prevented apparation both into and out of the area it was cast on. Clearly Iye was as anxious that his wizard students stay put as he was to prevent others getting in. Good.

Dracos' main concern had been the possibility that his team might face a large number of highly-trained wizards as well as the HYDRA garrison. Now he was in a position to remove that threat. He cast the strongest Sealing Spell he could on the door that was the only entrance or exit to the wizard section. Then he stepped back out of the room, loaded the HE clip into his SHIELD sidearm and collapsed the chamber with a couple of well-placed shots.

That, of course, set off every alarm in the place. Just as Draco wanted. Within a few minutes, HYDRA would have their hands very full indeed!

"We just got a bang." Bruce said in Rhodeys' ear. "Guess the Boss did his thing."

"Roger that." Rhodey said, ran down the ramp and jumped out of the plane. It was good to be back in the War Machine suit. The few months Rhodey had spent doubling for Tony as iron Man had been a lot of fun, and he'd developed a taste for this kind of fighting.

Admittedly, War Machine armour was not as fast, agile or sophisticated as the Iron Man suit, but it had its own advantages. The VR software gave him 360-degree vision, for instance, and the suits' modular weapon systems were slaved to his eye movements. Right now he had an assault rifle mounted on his right forearm, a grenade launcher on his left, while on his back was a new toy. A large, thick disc containing hundreds of homing mini-missiles.

Rhodey dived into the caldera, through the holographic 'lava', seeing below him a large landing area. Built into the walls of the caldera was a massive array of cannon and missile launchers, all computer-controlled and activated by unauthorised entry past the hologram. Unfortunately, they were programmed to deal with large groups of men and the aircraft which would land them. A man-sized, flying object darting about at random was nothing they could handle.

Software did what software could, loosing fusillade after volley. Most of the ammunition was expended on rock, but rather a lot of it caused 'friendly fire' damage to systems on the opposite wall. In the middle of the chaos, War Machine swooped, dived and circled like a swallow in a summer sky. From the disc on his back came a constant stream of small, fast projectiles programmed to home in on the sources of enemy fire and explode with devastating effect.

At some point – Rhodey didn't notice when – some of the holo-projectors must have been hit, because the false ceiling vanished. Then it was over. The enemy guns fell silent, either destroyed or deactivated, he couldn't tell which.

"War Machine to Condor." He said. "Come on down!"

In the planes' Weapons Control booth, just above and behind the flight deck, Clark Kent spotted something on his scope.

"Something big coming in fast on our ten o'clock." He reported to Bruce.

"Roger that, going to intercept." Bruce replied.

Dragons are almost invisible to radar. However, by their nature they have a disproportionately large heat signature. Summoned by who knew what arcane means, the Chinese Fireball was on its' way to defend the nest. Bruce placed the big plane directly in its' path.

Clark waited until just the right moment, then said "Ace the cloak."

The sudden appearance of an airborne opponent larger than itself caused the dragon to backwing in confusion, leaving itself exposed for just long enough. Dragonhide is one of the toughest materials in nature, but was no protection against the depleted uranium ammunition fired by the planes' Vulcan cannon. The unfortunate beast was virtually shredded by a two-second burst.

"Hologram's gone!" Cypher reported from Observation.

"Roger that, heading for the caldera." Bruce responded.

They had just arrived when War Machine called them in. They descended through the smoke of battle and touched down to see Rhodey pelting across the concrete toward them.

"We got company!" He yelled.


	8. Chapter 8

**Professor Iye**

**Chapter Eight**

The 'company' Rhodey had announced was several squads of heavily-armed HYDRA troopers and three medium Mech units. Usually War Machine would be more than a match for the Mechs, but not with his current load-out.

"You gotta hold these guys off while I get to the Arming Unit!" He told the team.

"Oh, I sink we can do better zan zat, _mon vieux_!" Gabrielle said. "We will meet you at ze top of ze ramp."

As he approached the loading ramp, Rhodey saw the team waiting for him. Clark, Willow and Gabrielle were standing behind a shimmering wizard shield with a couple of large pieces of equipment. Bruce had got down from the cockpit pretty quick and was manning the mini-gun that covered the loading bay entrance. As Rhodey started up the ramp, Bruce opened fire. The electrically-powered Gatling gun wrought havoc among the troopers, but barely touched the Mechs.

As War Machine reached the top of the ramp, Gabrielle told him: "Turn round and release the missile launcher."

Puzzled but trusting his team, Rhodey did as asked, unlocking the clamps that held the weapon system in place. Gabrielle levitated it clear. Then Clark, on one side, lifted another mini-gun with a grunt to place it on the shoulder-mount. Without being told, Rhodey locked it in, just as Willow, on the other side, levitated an RPG launcher onto the other shoulder-mount.

As the suits' software rapidly adjusted to the changed load-out, Willow told Rhodey; "I put a Reload Charm on the launcher – thirty seconds after you fire the last rocket, you'll have a full load again. I also tripled the ammunition for the mini-gun, that's as much as I can do safely!"

"Thanks." Rhodey said. He noted that the magical shield was holding up fairly well, but beginning to flicker. The things needed to be maintained, and the witches had had other things to do. Gabrielle had gestured with her wand at the lead Mech, which had promptly gone rigid and toppled over. After a few moments, the escape hatch popped and the pilot scrambled out and ran for it.

"So," Gabrielle observed, "the full body-bind works on those machines. Useful to know."

Rhodey didn't comment, just launched a couple of RPGs at the other two Mechs, wrecking them both.

"OK." He said. "Status?"

"The Dragons' down, the Boss says he sealed off most if not all of the wizards. We just need to clear this place out, deal with Iye and either secure or destroy the _Nautilus_." Bruce said crisply.

"Right." Rhodey nodded. "We also need to link up with the Boss if we can. Cypher, what've you got?"

From the planes' computer core, Cypher answered. "With the codes Agent Malfoy gave Willow, I got access to their systems. Just about cracked them wide open. They're blind and deaf in there, and most of the automatic defences are shut down.

"I'll stay here, on Comms and maintain the perimeter on the plane."

"Roger that." Rhodey said. "Doug, you up for this?"

Dr Howser adjusted his medic armband and nodded. "A little nervous, but good. I've been in combat before!"

"OK." Rhodey stepped forward. "Let's do this!"

Two powerful witches, a weapons specialist, a heavy-grav ET and War Machine against the best HYDRA had to offer. No contest.

Students at Hogwarts - especially Gryffindors – will tell you that Slytherins aren't fighters. This is not, in fact, entirely true. Certainly Slytherins don't fight unnecessarily, if there is another way to achieve their ends. But that said, even Salazar Slytherin was known to remark that, from time to time, a little judiciously-applied violence did wonders.

_Of course_, Draco reminded himself, _Salazar was possessed by a Gou'a'ould for a large portion of his life. It might have changed his perspective on things_. Nevertheless, Draco had been judiciously applying violence for the last half-hour or so, with considerable success.

He had to admire the courage and discipline of the HYDRA troops. Their communications and surveillance cut off by Cypher, they had not panicked. Instead they had rallied in groups under their officers, and attempted to link up with each other to form larger forces.

Unfortunately for them, they had relied on the defences in the caldera to take care of the leading edge of an attack, or at least to delay it until they could fully form up and man defensive positions. Also, their tactics were designed to hold off invaders. They were ill-prepared for even one enemy operating behind their lines.

Then there was the magic factor. Harry had told Draco about the lethality of muggle weapons, and Draco had now witnessed it himself. Muggles had been assiduously practising warfare for thousands, If not millions, of years. Wizards had had their share of conflict, of course, but nothing on the scale of the almost constant war that had been so large a part of muggle history. The result was that no wizard – even the fabled and much-feared Ron Weasley – could match the raw destructive power of War Machine. But when it came to what Dracos' SHIELD instructors had called 'shock and awe', wizards definitely had an edge.

What they did might be less intrinsically damaging than muggle weapons, but it was inexplicable, uncanny and in many cases downright impossible! A soldier who could calmly face bullets and bombs would still panic when a nearby piece of machinery apparently came alive and strangled the man next to him, or when the ground suddenly opened up and swallowed his CO.

Draco was taking full advantage of this. A limited gene-pool sometimes had advantages, and all the Malfoys had been, for several generations, ambidextrous to some degree. Draco could use either hand equally well. So now, wand in one hand and pistol in the other, he was creating a unique kind of chaos as he made his way to rendezvous with his people.

He met no serious challenges until, rounding a corner, he came face-to-face with a towering robot he recognised from training videos. A HYDRA Dreadnaught.

_This base must be vital_. Draco thought. _There aren't very many of these brutes still operational._

The Dreadnaught focused on him. "Intruder identified." It grated. "Terminate!"

Draco dived and rolled away from the bullets the robot fired from its fingertips, then flung up a shield to block the gout of flame it sent at him. He muttered a sentence whose lightest word would have caused his nanny to wash his mouth out with soap. No time to exchange the clip in his pistol for armour-piercing rounds, so...

The Dreadnaught was suddenly an eight-foot Teddy bear. It looked around with a puzzled expression in its brown button eyes and asked plaintively "Christopher Robin?", before wandering aimlessly off.

Draco shook his head. Why Astoria had insisted on his reading A A Milne to Scorpius, instead of Beedle the Bard, he would never know!

He confronted the HYDRA trooper who was staring between him and the retreating bear with equal astonishment and fear.

"If," Draco said, "you don't get out of my sight immediately, I will Transfigure you into Piglet! Or possibly Eeyore."

The man fled. Draco nodded. Shock and awe, every time.

By the sound of things, he was coming close to where his comrades were. He emerged on a catwalk looking down on a large, open area that seemed to be some sort of control centre. His team were busily mopping up what looked to be the last HYDRA resistance.

But just in front of him, one soldier had just managed to take up position in a machine-gun nest. Draco stepped forward and shot the man in the head. Not quite quickly enough, as the gun had got off one quick burst, and Gabrielle was down!

Draco apparated over to where Howser was crouching over the French witch. As he arrived, Gabrielles' eyes flickered open and she gasped. "_Merde! Cela fait mal!"_

"I'll just bet it does." Howser told her. "Lie still!"

He examined her with eye, hand and medi-scanner, then sighed with relief. "You'll live." He informed her. "The body armour stopped the bullets from penetrating, but I think you cracked or broke a couple ribs, there."

"Give me a potion for ze pain." She told him. "I will carry on."

"You will not!" Howser said sternly. "I said you might have broken some ribs, and I'd rather deal with that than have you doing something stupid and getting a punctured lung or even pericardium. You are going to lie right there until I've immobilised the ribs, and then we're going back to the plane to get you fixed up.

"Don't worry, the SHIELD wizards gave me some Skele-gro potion. You'll be back on your feet in a couple hours."

While speaking, he had been opening the body armour. Now he placed a small device on the tunic inside and pressed a button.

"There, that'll stiffen and tighten up the unstable polymer of the tunic. Saves strapping your ribs the old-fashioned way. C'mon, let's get you back to the plane, nice and easy."

Gabrielle looked anxiously at Draco. "M Malfoy?" She pleaded.

Draco shook his head. "Dr Howser is our medical officer." He told her. "His authority exceeds mine in such matters, even if I were inclined to disagree with him, which I am not.

"In any event, I believe we are all but finished here. Go."

Draco turned to the group. "Is everyone else well?"

There were nods and thumbs-up gestures. Rhodey remarked, "Fine, but a little tired."

"Metal fatigue, no doubt." Draco replied, getting a general groan. "Well, it appears that we now need to locate the elusive Professor."

"I think," Clark said quietly, "he's located us."

Draco turned. Iye was indeed standing in the centre of the room, taking in the devastation. He focused on Draco and bowed.

"Malfoy-san." He said gravely. "I appear to have underestimated you. It is a mistake I shall not make again."

His wand came out of his sash in the wizard equivalent of an _iaijutsu_ draw, but Draco, every nerve on the alert, was already moving. His counter-curse was deftly blocked, and the duel was on!

It was like no duel Draco had ever fought before. He had trained, of course. First with Professor Snape, subtle and crafty, then with Harry Potter, who was skilled and athletic, and with Ron Weasley, whose combination of tactical brilliance and sheer raw power was breathtaking, and even with Hermione Weasley, whose lack of aggression and moderate power was compensated for by deep knowledge and uncanny skill.

But Iye fought in the manner of the samurai. A savage elegance that aimed for the kill, uncompromised by any fear of death or pain. There was also no morality in his style, he used the Dark Arts as freely as any other technique.

Now Draco realised why Harry had chosen him for this. Raised in an old, Pureblood family who drew no distinctions, Draco had drawn in knowledge of the Dark Arts almost with his wet-nurses' milk. He understood them in his bones, and any teaching of them beyond that was mere refinement.

Which is not to say that the duel was in any way easy, for either man. There were moments when both escaped death by the narrowest of margins, and each collected a number of minor injuries. Dracos' people, instinctively understanding the situation, kept clear, allowing these two leaders to settle the matter in their own way.

It was touch and go for a while, then Iye changed tactics. He stabbed his wand down, causing a violent tremor to shake the floor. In the second or two it took Draco to recover his balance, iye slipped his wand back into his sash and charged.

The Japanese was clearly skilled in Judo and Karate, and he came in fast, looking for leverage and, when he couldn't find it, boring in with kite and sword strikes. At one time, Draco would have been as helpless as the majority of wizards in the face of such an attack. Now he called on his more recent training, countering with his own blend of Karate, Aikido and Krav Maga.

The next few minutes were energetic and bruising, but again, neither man could gain a decisive advantage. But it was clear that Iye was tiring faster than Draco. The man was in superb condition, but though his elixir had stopped him ageing, it had done so in his mid to late 40s'. Draco had, to all intents and purposes, a ten-year advantage, and where skill is equal, the greater resilience of youth will always tell.

Perhaps it was this that made Iye suddenly roll clear of the fight. There was a tense pause as the opponents stood facing each other, then Iye bowed again.

"Once again, you exceed my expectations, Malfoy-san." He said. "Much as I might wish to bring our discussions to a conclusion, I have other duties."

With that, he bowed and disapparated.

"Dammit!" Rhodey growled. "Now we have to search this whole place for him!"

"No, we don't." Draco spoke without his usual drawl. "During the fight I managed to put a tracer on him. Cypher, do you have his location?"

"Affirmative." Came Cypher's reply over the comlink. "Sending it to your PADD."

At that moment, the lights went red and a harsh, mechanical voice began to intone: "AUTO-DESTRUCT SEQUENCE ACTIVATED. PERSONNEL HAVE FIFTEEN – ONE-FIVE – MINUTES TO CLEAR THE AREA. THIS IS NOT A DRILL."

"Ah, shit!" Clark swore. "How come they always have a self-destruct?"

"Same reason they always make a speech instead of just shooting you." Willow told him. "What do we do, Boss?"

"Get back to the plane and get clear." Draco directed. "I need to make sure of Iye. I'll join you as soon as I can. Please don't dash off until and unless you're sure I won't be back!"

"Want me to come with you, Boss?" Clark asked.

"The offer is appreciated, Kent." Draco replied. "But this is a purely wizard matter, I think."

With that, he also disapparated.

"Ok." Rhodey said. "You heard the man! Let's get going!"

The room Draco found himself in was an odd mix. On the one side was a 21st-Century office space with a computer and a large plasma screen, which at that moment showed nothing but the inexorable countdown to self-destruct. On the other, a traditional Japanese tatami room, sparsely but tastefully decorated.

In the centre of this space knelt Iye, his kimono arranged carefully round him, a short blade in his hands. He looked up at Draco, and set the blade down. His face was already showing signs of ageing, and as Draco looked around, he saw a small dish with a few charred fragments in it.

"Yes, Malfoy-san." Iye said softly. "I have destroyed my Stone and poured away the last of my Elixir. My students are gone, those of my men whom you and your friends did not kill are also fled. Soon, all of my secrets will burn. Your determination to see I do not escape is laudable, but unnecessary."

"Why?" Draco asked.

Iye shrugged. "There are some who would say my failure in my mission is sufficient. But there is no dishonour in defeat when one is over-matched. The Red Skull, however, does not see things as I do. He does not tolerate failure, and my life is forfeit. I simply wished to end it in my own way, rather than his. Will you deny me this also?"

Draco bowed. "Iye-san, I am not of your people, but I am, as you said, of noble birth. Should you find it acceptable, I would be honoured to act as your second."

Iye inclined his head. "It is most acceptable. Once again, Malfoy-san, you rise above my estimation of you. These swords have been in my family for many generations, but I am the last of my line. I would be honoured if you would accept them as a memento of our mutual victory.

"Now, let us finish this."

The destruction of the base was not as spectacular an event as might be thought. Clark, former Navy SEAL and demolitions expert, nodded approvingly as, with remarkably little fuss, the mountain collapsed in on itself. The point was, after all, to destroy things, not to make a big flash and a bang. That said, the sudden emergence of several flows of red-orange material from the remains of the mountain indicated that there had still been some activity in the volcano beneath.

Rhodey kept the plane orbiting, while everyone watched anxiously. Then Bruce called: "We got incoming! Small, fast, organic." He gave a sudden, disbelieving, laugh. "It's the Boss -on a broomstick?"

Draco zoomed in through the belly-hatch and dismounted in the hold, sweeping his gaze around the team.

"Mlle Delacourt, are you well?" He asked first.

"A little sore and stiff, _Patron," _Gabrielle allowed, "but healed and very well taken care of."

"Excellent! My thanks, Dr Howser." Draco nodded. "Professor Iye chose to take his own life, in the samurai tradition, and will present no further threat. His students, however, seem to have escaped. Do we have any clue as to who they might be or where they might go?"

"Well, if it's any help," Cypher put in, "while you guys were playing cowboy down there, I managed to suck the bases' databanks dry. It'll take a while to analyse it all, but if HYDRA is as thorough as usual, there should be full records of everything they did down there."

"In which case," Draco concluded, "the only negative aspect of the mission is our inability to secure the _Nautilus_. Unfortunately, it and Captain Nemos' secrets are now buried under several tons of rock and magma.

"On the whole, however, We should regard our first mission together as a success, ladies and gentlemen. Thank you all for your invaluable contributions, it is a pleasure to work with you.

"I will report in to Commander McGarrett, the Ministry in Jamaica and Director Rogers in due course. However, I think the next items on the agenda are hot showers and hearty meals!"

Some hours later, Doug Howser stretched lazily. "I'm sure," he remarked, "that this is some kind of violation of medical ethics."

Gabrielle propped herself up on one elbow and grinned down at him. "_Mais non_." She told him. "I am fully cured and so no longer your patient, _mon ami_. Anyway, I was curious to see if your touch remains as deft and sure off duty as on."

"And does it?" He asked.

"Oh, you surpass yourself, _monsieur le docteur_!" She declared. She nestled in closer to him. "But I am still per'aps a leetle stiff. I may need more, 'ow you say, physical therapy?"

Willow came into the Rec Room to see an oddly familiar sight on the big plasma screen. Rhodey and Clark were sitting in front of it, eating chips and dips and drinking beer. Clark was saying:

"Those rings are definitely goals of some kind. They keep trying to put that red football through them."

"I get that." Rhodey replied. "But what about those black balls? Are they some kind of hazard? They seem to attack the players."

"Yeah, but some of them are using those clubs to hit them into the other team as well." Clark noted. "Kinda makes sense. Can't be easy to tackle somebody on a broom."

"You guys are watching Quidditch?" Willow asked. "How come?"

Rhodey grinned at her. "It's being streamed from Wizard TV so the Boss can watch it." He explained. "Clark and I were just curious. You're a witch, can you explain it?"

Willow shook her head. "Sorry, fellas! I was born and raised by muggles. Never saw a game till I started working at Hogwarts, and I can't make head nor tail of it. I was a nerd at High School, so I'm not good on sports."

"Fortunately, I am." The familiar dry tones made them all jump. Draco had come into the room without a sound.

Now he came forward, dumped a dozen bottles on the low table in front of the screen, seated himself between the two other man and picked up the remote control.

"I was watching in my own quarters when I noticed the signal was being fed here as well." He said. "I had assumed that you had no interest, but since you seem to, we might as well watch the game on the big screen. Let's rewind to the start, shall we? Do help yourselves to a Butterbeer."

"Butterbeer?" Clark asked.

"A wizard brew." Draco told him. "Not alcoholic _per se_, but it does produce a sense of wellbeing. Ah! Tortilla chips! Delicious. I would no doubt suffer Astorias' wrath if she knew I was eating them, but I suspect that even her spy network has not yet penetrated SHIELD security.

"Right, then. As you correctly surmised, Kent, the rings at each end of the pitch are in fact goals. What you refer to as a 'red football' is called a quaffle, and the players designated as Chasers aim to score points by putting the quaffle through one of the rings, which are defended by the Keeper.

"Regarding the dark, free-floating balls, these are called bludgers..."

Willow left them to it. Male bonding wasn't her thing.

The End

Draco Malfoy, Agent of SHIELD, will return

in

_From Durmstrang With Blood_


End file.
